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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27107173">Grey Canyon</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamingofscully/pseuds/dreamingofscully'>dreamingofscully</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The X-Files</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Western, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Brothels, Emotional Sex, F/M, I APOLOGIZE, POV Alternating, POV Dana Scully, POV Fox Mulder, RST, Romance, Smut, UST, Western</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 05:55:19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>59,538</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27107173</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamingofscully/pseuds/dreamingofscully</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p><br/>It’s 1885. The Gilded Hall is a high-end brothel in the town of Grey Canyon, Colorado, and it’s in this unlikely location where Dana Scully and Fox Mulder meet each other. They have an instant connection, and their friendship blossoms into something neither of them knew they needed. Will they have the courage to overcome the chains of their past, and grow into the future together?</p><p>An MSR AU.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Fox Mulder/Dana Scully</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>179</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>273</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. I hit what I aim at</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Thank you to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceruleanmilieu">ceruleanmilieu</a> for being such an amazing beta!!</p><p>Updated Mondays and Fridays. Final chapter to be posted on January 18, 2021.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Grey Canyon, Colorado<br/>
1885</p><p>Dana supposed shooting at a man wasn’t the best introduction, but she felt it was the most appropriate one, given the circumstances. Although, she wasn't sure what had caused her to shift her aim at the last second--a bit of truth she recognized in his eyes, she thought.</p><p>“For God’s sakes, woman!” The rascal climbing through the window had fallen backwards, and his cursing was muffled as he landed head over heels in the bushes below.</p><p>She'd awoken the whole house with the shot. Ladies in various states of undress bounded down the stairs to see what the commotion was about. </p><p>"He might be dangerous, go back to your rooms," she said. Elsie and Clementine, much taller than Dana and the boldest of the girls, peered over her shoulders through the window.</p><p>Someone shouted from an upstairs balcony, and Dana was pushed out of the way as the rest of the girls rushed forward.</p><p>“It’s Fox!”</p><p>“Dana shot Fox!”</p><p>“Oh, no, are you okay, Fox?”</p><p>
  <i>Fox? </i>
</p><p>The man crawled through the window once more. He brushed off his dusty black overcoat and held onto his hat with a tight grip, seeming to shrink under the attention of the other women. </p><p>“You might want to consider using the front door next time, uh, Mr…”</p><p>“This is Fox! He’s our special guy, Dana,” Elsie gushed. Her sleep chemise didn’t leave much to the imagination, and she pressed herself closer to him, clutching his arm and gazing into his face adoringly.</p><p>“Uhh…” </p><p>To his credit, this so-called “Fox” blushed furiously and gave Dana his full attention, looking anywhere except where the girls wanted him to. They seemed to be guiding him slowly towards the hallway, presumably up to one of their rooms, and Scully couldn’t help comparing him to a wounded version of his namesake, being dragged along unwillingly after a chase.</p><p>“Mr. Fox Mulder, ma’am,” he wrested his arm away from Elsie and directed it towards her. </p><p>“Alright Mr. Mulder, what exactly were you doing sneaking into this establishment through a window?” Dana took his proffered hand and shook it perfunctorily, keeping an eye on him while heading towards the window, assessing the damage her bullet had caused.</p><p>“I was merely hoping to return without a ruckus.”</p><p>Their eyes connected, her bright blue and his unusual golden-green, and for a moment Dana forgot they weren't alone. Mulder smiled, charming and lopsided, and she got a glimpse of the man behind the idiot that tried to sneak into a brothel in the middle of the day.</p><p>“Well that worked out well for you, didn't it?” She couldn’t help it, her mouth lifted into a ghost of a smile before she banished it under a stern expression. She cleared her throat and busied herself with her weapon, making sure it was safe before tucking it away in the folds of her thick, black skirts.</p><p>“Good thing your aim still needs a little work.”</p><p>Dana crossed her arms and arched her eyebrow. “I hit what I aim at, Mr. Mulder.”</p><p>Mulder bowed his head at her with a wink, and left the room with the ladies trailing behind him. From the doorway, she heard protests and disappointed sighs as he somehow managed to extricate himself from them, escaping into the confines of Madam Hall’s chambers, a place none of the girls dared to invade.</p><p><i>Curious</i>, she thought.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. A proper introduction</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Mulder peeked out of Madam Hall’s office about an hour later--the girls had all headed back to their rooms, thank God. </p><p>Shuffling into the main dining room, he noted the woman, Dana, sitting on her own at a battered corner table with a mug and a newspaper, glasses perched on the end of her nose. He wondered who, exactly, this woman was. Clothed in an all-black dress with her hair tightly bound, she belonged more in his father's library or a chapel instead of this place. There was a spark in her eyes that spoke of intelligence and something else that was strangely familiar to him. When he’d asked the madam about her, she’d only blown smoke in his face and, stone-faced, told him that he would need to ask her himself, if he was so interested.</p><p>He was. </p><p>So, he approached her, hand outstretched. “A proper introduction, perhaps?”</p><p>She paused mid-sip and peered at him over the rim of her glasses, making no move to grasp his outstretched hand. As she swallowed her drink, his gaze followed the movement, porcelain skin of her throat disappearing into the high neck of her dress.</p><p>“Once is enough I think,” she said, returning to her paper.</p><p>Undeterred, Mulder sat on a chair at her table, waved at the barkeep for a coffee.</p><p>“So… I never got your full name.” </p><p>“Dana... Schaeffer.” </p><p>It was smooth, and if he hadn’t been expecting something else, he wouldn’t have noticed her stumble on her last name. Unusual, especially considering her slight irish accent.</p><p>“Married are you, then, Mrs. Schaeffer?”</p><p>Dana frowned, shaking her head. Her hand trembled slightly as she lifted the cup to her mouth once more. Mulder was intrigued, but before he could continue his questions, she cleared her throat and asked one of her own.</p><p>“Are you law enforcement, then, not wanting anyone to notice you entering such a place?” </p><p>“No,” he said, laughing a bit at the thought. “I’m not corrupt enough to work as an officer of the law.”</p><p>“Married yourself?” </p><p>“Definitely not,” he scoffed, and wondered how she’d turned the tables on his questioning so deftly, cool blue eyes offering nothing of herself. “So, what’s--”</p><p>He’s interrupted by the barkeep bringing him his coffee. </p><p>“Good to have you back, Mulder.” </p><p>“Some things never change, Melvin,” Mulder said, wincing as he sipped the bitter drink. “Did you scrape this off the floor?” </p><p>“If it’s good enough for the lovely Miss Dana, it’s certainly good enough for a fuckin' cur like you.” Melvin bit back, and whipped the rag he’d been using to wipe the counters onto his shoulder. He turned to Dana before heading back to the bar. “Pardon the language, Miss, this uncivilized jackass brings out the worst in me.”</p><p>When Mulder looked back at Dana, she was observing the exchange with a sharp eye. He grinned at her, hoping to smooth over her disapproval, but she returned to her reading without comment, seemingly unphased. Words sat beneath his tongue, but something told him to keep them there; so he joined her in comfortable silence, reading the pages she passed to him as she finished. Mostly he watched her though: the delicate line of her jaw, the tongue peeking out of her mouth occasionally as she read, the light dusting of freckles across her nose. He wanted to know her mind, settled for memorizing her face.</p><p>He thought he was being subtle, but when she cleared her throat, her eyes were raised at him in a question, a slight flush creeping onto her cheeks.</p><p>“You were about to ask me a question earlier,” she said, breaking their silent truce.</p><p>“I was?”</p><p>“Before Melvin brought you your coffee,” she reminded him, smiling slightly. </p><p>“Uhh…” Mulder couldn’t remember, distracted as he was at her presence. She must think him a complete fool, or slow. Maybe he was.</p><p>“Let me guess: what’s a woman like you doing at a place like the Gilded Hall?” She smirked at him, completely on target.</p><p>He peered at her, a puzzle he couldn’t solve. Didn’t think if given a few months that he could.</p><p>“The madam took me in, few months back. I’ve been useful to her, with the girls - helping them read, learn their sums. A few other things. And I’m an unexpected advantage in case there’s trouble.” She tapped the side of her skirts, where he'd seen her place her gun. Her expression hardened, suddenly. “I don’t know why I’m--” </p><p>She paused and looked downwards, interrupting herself. Mulder waited for her to continue, but she seemed lost in her thoughts.</p><p>“A woman of many talents,” he said, wondering if he dared continue. “Madam collects people who are useful, that part isn’t difficult to understand. Why you’d choose to stay here is another question.”</p><p>She folded the paper, placed it upon the table in front of her, looked at him with an inscrutable expression. “That story is not for everyone, Mr. Mulder.”</p><p>She rose from her chair, straightening her skirts, and Mulder stood, not willing to give up her company quite yet.</p><p>"I have girls to see to, Mr. Mulder, and while I’m sure they wouldn't mind your presence, I think, perhaps, you'd rather be elsewhere?" she said, raising an eyebrow.</p><p>He sat quickly, which earned him a playful smile. As she ascended the stairs to the upper floor, Mulder's eyes didn't leave her, and for the first time in a long while, he was eager for the days ahead.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Hiding</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Even though she chose to live in a house of ill-repute, Dana prided herself on her propriety. She certainly should have yelled and kicked Mulder out of her room at the end of her revolver the moment she realized he was there--and certainly once she heard Clementine was no longer in the hallway. For some reason it didn't feel wrong for him to be there, sitting on her floor in the middle of the night. Still, she was glad the shadows hid her from his gaze and preserved most of her modesty.</p><p>“I’m sorry about how we met. You must think me some sort of cad,” he whispered, watching the light under her door carefully. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and he rested his bare forearm casually on her bed, mere inches from her leg. She was happy for the thick quilt covering her, but she could still feel his warmth seeping through the cloth.</p><p>These past few days he’d been a constant disruption to her usual routine. Quiet mornings reading the paper interrupted by his questions, wondering about her opinion on one thing or another. Causing her cheeks to redden and her thoughts to wander under the intensity of his gaze. Even when she got some peace in her room at supper, avoiding the raucous crowd, she felt his presence in her mind, peering over her shoulder, the ghost of his hand on her arm. </p><p>“I should be the one apologizing, shooting at you like that,” she said, not recognizing the small voice coming out of her mouth. It was hard to convey strength without her corset straightening her back, the thick wool of her dress as her armor. Especially when she wore nothing beneath the coverlet except her thin chemise. Warmth flooded her chest at the thought.</p><p>He chuckled. “You didn’t aim for me at least.“ His eyes wandered over her few sparse belongings in the room, then he looked back at her. “How long have you been here?”</p><p>“About six months, Mr. Mulder.” She drew the covers up to her chin, leaned away from him a bit more. “How… how long have you worked for Madam Hall?”</p><p>“Three years now. Wow, has it been that long?” His eyes focused on something beyond her at his words, as he traveled into his past.</p><p>“You haven’t said what exactly it is you do here…”</p><p>“I am a man of many talents, such as yourself,” he started. Leaning closer to her, whispering even softer so she had to inch closer to hear him. “I’d been searching for my sister. She… went missing about 10 years ago. I left home a few years after that once I’d realized no one cared to find her anymore.” He looked away, but not before she saw the deep sorrow he still carried within him at the loss. <i>After so long?</i></p><p>Meeting her gaze once more, Mulder’s jaw hardened, his eyes watching her intently. “I came across this place, because some information I’d gotten said she was sold into similar circumstances. The madam’s been helping me. And I’ve been helping her. She finds girls that need another chance, I bring them here safely, then escort them elsewhere if need be.”</p><p>“Ah,” Dana said, not sure she wanted to understand.</p><p>“Not all of them end up working here. Some do. Some only for a time. They’re given a choice, which is more than most," Mulder said, sounding like he was trying to convince himself as well as her. </p><p>"And so you repeat what was done to your sister?"</p><p>"It is nothing like that," he whispered harshly. "The women I bring have no hope, they come from abusive husbands, poverty, worse. I don't know how she finds them but she gives them something they never had before."</p><p>His eyes flashed at her, his hands clenched tightly into fists. Gone was the silly man climbing through a window, hiding from the girls chasing after him, pestering her with questions. In its place, a man who hurt, who longed for answers and justice. She felt a thrill trickle up her spine, and she longed to let go of the quilt she held up between them. There was something about him that made her want to confess everything, to tell him what had her hiding beneath this roof, behind the girls that she had come to see as sisters. She won’t, though. Not yet.</p><p>"I did not mean to imply that what you did was similar to the men who took your sister, Sir," Scully said, sliding her hand across the blanket to touch his own, to soothe his roughened knuckles. "Only that if you can't find her you can help the women that remind you of her."</p><p>He looked at her, eyes wide, then pulled away, shoulders slumping forward. He covered his face with his hands and he shivered, despite the warmth of the room. It all made sense, now, why he avoided the willing company of the women in the brothel.</p><p>"You don’t believe that I'll find her," he stood, looming over her, tall and dark in her shadowed room. She knew him now; she was not afraid.</p><p>"I think you will try until your breath gives out."</p><p>He nodded, and it was difficult to see clearly but she thought he might have smiled. </p><p>"I leave when madam tells me, but sometimes I take a bit longer on the journey there, to inquire about a woman who would now be 23 and a stranger. I return with someone else, though." He wiped a hand across his face, blinking as if waking from a dream.</p><p>“Why'd you come back now then, if you didn't bring a girl with you?"</p><p>"I don't know." He looked at her, moonlight shining in his eyes as he opened the door to leave. "But I'm glad I did."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Advice</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"You, come with me. Now."</p><p>That's how Mulder found himself, rolling along the stinking streets with the madam on her weekly trip to visit a few important 'investments', as she called them. In other words: bribes. She paid off the law with one hand, the church with the other, ensuring she would be allowed to stay in business. Nevermind that she could probably buy the town ten times over. This way was easier. Besides, if anyone knew her profits, she'd be run out of town with ten men looking to take her place.</p><p>Normally she took Walt with her. The sturdy bouncer's scowl was more than capable of driving away anyone who thought to cause trouble. Today he was busy. Or something.</p><p>"I've noticed you and Miss Dana spending time together," she said, uncomfortably adjusting her corset. She only wore her dresses when out of the brothel, more comfortable hiding away in her office wearing men’s trousers.</p><p>“You saving her for someone?” He regretted the words coming out of his mouth the instant he said them. Just thinking about the possibility made his heart sink.</p><p>She looked at him sharply. “You think I'd do that to her? You know me better than that, Fox.”</p><p>He nodded, feeling somewhat ashamed of the accusation.</p><p>“I just thought I'd remind you of where you were, not three years ago, when I found you in the gutters, smelling of whiskey and filth,” she said.</p><p>Mulder winced at the memory.</p><p>“You think that's going to change? Hell, you disappeared for six months without a word. I had to call on Billy to help with the latest girl, and you know how he frightens them. You haven't changed a bit,” she snapped the reins, navigating expertly along the bumpy road.</p><p>“She's just a friend.”</p><p>“Hah! A friend. Since when do you have friends?” </p><p>Mulder brooded in silence, her words speaking truths he knew too clearly. For the past few weeks he had felt more alive, more vibrant, than he'd felt in as long as he can remember. Deep down though, was that person really him?</p><p>“She's special, Fox. I know you know that. You have a way about you, makes women want to fix you. Don't make her feel as though you're anything more than a temporary distraction. We both know sooner rather than later you'll leave, you'll go back to your old habits. Will you destroy her as well as yourself?”</p><p>He didn’t think he could risk it.</p><p>She didn't speak a word more about Dana the rest of their trip. His mind whirled with choices. A few minutes ago he’d been looking forward to getting back, enjoying her company in the kitchens while the lunch crowd packed the dining room. Now, though, he wondered. Who was he to bring his misery down upon her?</p><p>The Gilded Hall was large but relatively non-descript: a two storey grey brick facade with white trim. Notable, however, was the spacious balcony that led from the second floor, and beneath it the gleaming gold double-doors that marked the front entrance. Upon their return, however, a large crowd was gathered out front, the golden entryway barely visible. </p><p>Before he could wonder at the commotion, he heard yelling, then the explosion of gunfire from inside.</p><p>Mulder stopped thinking and ran, pushing his way through the crowd with curses and a few sharp elbows. Walt was making his way up the staircase, gun drawn, and a few girls crowded around the upstairs landing. He heard her name, whispered, awe-struck: Dana.</p><p>Panic took hold of him and he rushed upstairs, the onlookers crowded around a body. <i>No no no no. Please no.</i></p><p>The crowd parted, and he saw a man lying still, blood pooling around his head, droplets trailing into a girl’s room. Inside, he saw her, holding on to Nellie as the girl sobbed. Their eyes connected. She was calm, like this was any other day.</p><p>“You okay?” he didn’t recognize his voice, hoarse and trembling.</p><p>“We’re fine. Take care of the mess outside and give us privacy.” </p><p>Her voice steadied him, and he nodded, taking one last long look before closing the door. Walt and the others handled the man outside the door, shot through the neck and already passed from this world. Madam managed the crowds, dispersing them with a smile and a promise, while Melvin handed out a round on the house. The events of this day would soon be forgotten in the haze of alcohol, in the chaos of the city outside, where death and justice rarely walked hand in hand.</p><p>Removing his hat and wiping his brow, Mulder let out a shaky breath and made his choice. He wondered about fate and destiny, if it had even been possible for him to take Madam’s advice. If he’d been locked into loving her since he’d first peeked over the windowsill and seen her clear blue eyes over the barrel of her gun. <i>Change was inevitable</i>, he thought, <i>even for me</i>.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. No hesitation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TW: groping/sexual assault</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Gilded Hall had been unusually busy for late morning. Dana retired to her room, irritated that her leisurely lunch was interrupted by men entering and eyeing her over. As much as she didn’t want to admit it to herself, she couldn’t hide from another truth - she was annoyed that the madam had requested Mulder’s presence and denied her their daily conversation.</p><p>After the evening that he’d confessed to her about his sister, they had grown closer. She did not reveal much of herself, but felt it was only a matter of time, even though the thought of telling him of her past caused her heart to pound in her chest. It felt like lying, withholding it from him, even though they’d only known each other for a couple of weeks. She felt like she’d known him her entire life, or that her existence before meeting him had only been only the sad introduction. It felt strange to have hope for the future after so long living day by day.</p><p>She shook her head and went back to reading the book that Madam lent her. Not but a few moments later, however, she was interrupted by the sound of shouting and the pounding of the floorboards above her. Putting her book down on her lap, she listened. When she couldn’t even hear the usual crowd from the dining room, she rose and left out the back door of her room, making sure her gun was loaded and ready.</p><p>The back stairs near her room were used by servants and other guests who wanted to discreetly access the Gilded Hall’s services. Dana used it to avoid the patrons when she needed to leave her rooms and avoid the eye of the guests.</p><p>Before she reached the top of the stairs she heard him—a man shouting obscenities and threatening one of the girls. Dana peeked around the corner, saw the filthy man holding a knife to Nellie’s throat, his arm around her waist. He continued shouting, but she tuned it out, calm settling over her and focusing her mind on what she needed to do.</p><p>Lowering herself to the ground, she waited for the perfect moment, aiming her gun with a steady hand. Nellie bowed over when he groped her breasts, thin chemise hanging open, his knife momentarily aimed away.</p><p>She heard the shot, saw him fall. Blood sprayed over both the man and Nellie, but Dana didn’t wait; she was already kicking the knife that he’d dropped when her shot hit its target, pulling the distraught girl into an empty bedroom to calm her down.</p><p>Sitting her down on a chair, Dana grabbed a nearby cloth and began wiping away the blood and the girl’s tears.</p><p>“Is he dead?” Nellie’s voice was a ragged whisper.</p><p>“He’s dead, honey.” If he wasn’t already, he would be. She hit what she aimed at.</p><p>Nellie’s shoulders shook as she sobbed, throwing her arms around Dana and holding onto her tightly. “I didn’t mean for him to be dead. I didn’t mean it—”</p><p>“Hush, hush. It’s okay. You didn’t kill him, it’s on me.” Dana caressed the girl’s back and stared at the door. Suddenly, Mulder was there, face stricken with fear. His eyes locked with hers.</p><p>“You okay?” He gasped, panting for breath.</p><p>She knew Nellie might not well exist in this room the way he looked at her, his concern for her threading its way over through the panic in his eyes, his trembling hand on the doorknob. What she did to deserve his concern, at the moment she wasn’t sure.</p><p>“We’re fine.” Pushing away thoughts of herself, Dana centered herself. “Take care of the mess outside and give us privacy.” </p><p>He closed the door. She comforted the girl, cleaned her up, efficient hands working to make things right. But her eyes strayed to the gun, the acrid smell of gunpowder invading her nose, unwelcome memories peeking in at the edges of her mind. It has been so easy to forget, to pretend she was nothing but a shell - acting automatically, responding as a machine. With Mulder’s concern, and her burgeoning feelings for him, she wondered if it would be worth the pain that came with it.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. A gift</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He tapped on her door, trying to ignore his sweaty palms and pounding heart. Before tonight, he’d kept himself in her company only at midday. He adjusted the plate he held, silently repeated the flimsy excuse he meant to give her, and patted the papers he’d brought in his jacket pocket.</p><p>When she opened the door, his words scattered and he stood there, mute. <i>She’s lovely</i>, was his only thought.</p><p>“Mr. Mulder?” She smiled at him, and if he squinted perhaps he could pretend she was glad to see him as well.</p><p>“Uhh... “ </p><p>“Did you want to join me for dinner?” She opened the door wider, allowed him to brush past her, then shut and locked it behind her, blanketing them both in the shadows of her room. Beyond the oil lamp on the table, only a few small candles provided illumination.</p><p>The table she’d been sitting at didn’t seem to have room for him: papers neatly stacked next to her fountain pen and inkwell, a variety of ribbons hanging from a stack of books. He had no doubt, though, that she could locate anything in a second. When he thought of his own messy desk in his room, which always looked like a whirlwind had passed through it, he envied her neatness. </p><p>He set his plate down on her empty dresser, wiped his hands on his trousers and removed his hat. She stood by the door, watching him, a question in her eyes. <i>She's busy, of course she is. How could he have thought she would want him here?</i></p><p>“It’s inappropriate for me to be here, a lady’s room alone at such an hour. I--” he started.</p><p>“Sit, Mr. Mulder,” she interrupted, gesturing to the chair on the opposite end of the table. “I don’t mind your company. Besides, there is no one else here that would know of our impropriety.” </p><p>She smiled one of her small, mysterious smiles at him. He wasn’t sure what went on inside her mind most times, but one of those looks from her and he felt instantly sure of himself. She moved her things to a desk in the corner, retrieving an extra glass as well as a pitcher of water for them to share.</p><p>“I’m afraid this is all I can offer you to drink. I don’t keep any alcohol in my room.”</p><p>“This is great. I, uh, I don’t drink anyway.”</p><p>“No?”</p><p>“I tend to do foolish things when I drink,” he said.</p><p>“From what I’ve seen, you still do foolish things, Mr. Mulder.” She sat, then looked up at him, still standing in the middle of her room, twisting the brim of his hat in his hands. “Now, sit. Join me.”</p><p>“Yes, ma’am.”</p><p>He hung his hat on the back of his chair, removed his jacket, and sat with her. They ate together, the golden glow from the lamp on her table cocooning them in its warmth. He could believe they were the only ones for miles, if he tuned out the faint sounds of raucous laughter and music coming from beyond her chamber.</p><p>As he’d known it would be, the incident from last week had been all but forgotten. The girls whispered and stared awestruck at Dana as she performed her duties. Dana herself went on as if nothing had happened, but he saw a sadness in her eyes when she thought he wasn’t looking. Before the shooting, he wondered if she’d been on the verge of sharing part of herself with him, but now she looked away and politely changed the subject when he asked questions about herself. Perhaps it was too much to hope that she was interested in him as a friend, as anything more than good conversation during lunchtime. <i>Well, she's allowing me to be here in her rooms now, isn't she?</i></p><p>The silence continued for a while, and he shifted in his seat restlessly, searching for something to speak about, to earn his right to be here.</p><p>“Did you know that there was another group, a few weeks after the Donner Party, who fell victim to the same gruesome fate?” he said, through a mouthful of pot pie.</p><p>“Oh?” she said, watching him curiously. </p><p>He ate a few more bites, knowing she would find the tale interesting, if nothing else. He didn’t kid himself that she would be convinced; she was the most stubborn doubter he’d ever met. For some reason, though, it made him even more determined to find the story that would change her mind. </p><p>“They were also forced to…” he waved his hands, not sure he should speak the words aloud while they ate.</p><p>“Consume each other,” she filled in for him, lowering her eyes briefly to take a bite of her meal, then returning her steady gaze to his own.</p><p>He nodded, then winced and set down his fork, continuing with his story. “It is unknown whether Armbruster Pike, the leader of the group, was killed first or his legs removed and eaten before his death, but witnesses have seen him in the area several times over the past few decades, his spirit appearing with ragged long white hair and... no legs.”</p><p>She bit her lip, but didn’t interrupt.</p><p>“Heedless of these horrifying sights…” he said, watching her roll her eyes and shake her head at his embellishments. Despite her feigned annoyance, there was a twinkle in her eyes and the hint of a smile, telling him that she was enjoying herself. His heart skipped a beat at the thought, and he struggled to get back to his story. “Uh... mining towns have been springing up in the region. And…”</p><p>He paused. She raised her eyebrows.</p><p>“Miners have been going missing,” he finished, grinning at her.</p><p>“Mr. Mulder,” she said, then waited.</p><p><i>Here it comes</i>, he thought. He enjoyed the way she listened to him carefully, even if she didn’t believe his tales, and fought back against his claims systematically and logically, rather than just dismissing him outright.</p><p>“You don’t really believe such things, do you?” Her eyebrow quirked upwards.</p><p>“I have heard of many such sightings - apparitions, ghasts. People have even seen their loved ones just before learning about their passing on.”</p><p>She merely looked at him, her smile growing wider as his heart thumped in his chest. Another reason, he thought, to amuse her with strange tales: he somehow managed to make her smile.</p><p>“We don’t know what happens when we die, Dana. These spirits, mostly passed on due to violent circumstances, well… perhaps they have some reason to hold on to the places where they died.”</p><p>Dana laughed aloud. “And just how many of these witnesses were drunk? Or people who want to see such things.”</p><p>“I’ve never seen a ghast.”</p><p>“Of course you haven’t.” She patted his hand, kept it there. Her thumb grazed over his knuckles in a gesture he thought was meant to soothe, but he felt quite the opposite; he leant towards her, gooseflesh rising on his arms. </p><p>She smiled softly. “Perhaps there is a reason your sleep is so terrible, if you think such things are real. It’s just not supported by any evidence. I have read about investigations into similar claims, and in each case they were unable to repeat the results you speak about. Those miners who went missing? It is very easy to disappear if you do not want to be found, or perhaps they fell off of a cliff in a desolate part of the mountains. People see what they wish to see, and believe what they wish to believe, Mr. Mulder.”</p><p>“You can call me ‘Mulder’, you know. Just Mulder,” he murmured, his quiet voice nearly swallowed by shadows of her room. He turned his hand over, grasping hers and trailing a finger along the soft skin of her wrist.</p><p>She stared at their entwined hands, and even with the low light he saw a flush creeping into her cheeks. “Not Fox?”</p><p>“I hate my name.”</p><p>“Why don’t you tell everyone not to call you that?”</p><p>“There doesn’t seem to be a point to it, I’ve found most don’t care to listen.”</p><p>“Alright... Mulder,” she smiled again, a dimple appearing in her right cheek. She squeezed his hand.  “I will listen. About ghasts, however… I believe I was punching holes in all of your ideas, or did you not want to continue with that?”</p><p>He chuckled, shaking his head. </p><p>“Oh! I forgot,” Mulder withdrew his hand from hers and reached into his pocket to pull out the papers he’d picked up earlier that day. “I got these for you.”</p><p>He handed over the manuscripts, their ragged edges and stained pages showing how little their former owner had appreciated them. Their fingers touched once more as she took them, and he watched her closely to see whether his instincts had been correct.</p><p>“The New England Journal of Medicine?” Her fingers traced over the title and her mouth dropped open in surprise. Her husky voice lit a spark in his chest that spread outward, warming his face. “How did you manage to find this?”</p><p>Seeing her eyes shine with excitement, he was very glad he spotted them in the physician's office, sitting underneath some bloodied papers while he waited for John to pick up supplies. </p><p>She reached forward again, and grasped his hand. “<i>Thank you</i>. You have no idea what this means to me.”</p><p>Mulder felt lighter, the burden of his guilt shifting slightly at her words, and he wondered if he’d be able to float out of her room like the spirits in the story he’d been telling. Their eyes connected, and for once, he thought he could really see her, the woman who she was before she’d found herself in this lonely place, hiding away in her darkened room. Overwhelmed, his nerves gave way under her scrutiny. <i>What had possessed him to think he could love this woman, and that she could love him?</i></p><p>“Well, you and Dr. Harbison seem like kindred spirits,” Mulder joked, tearing his eyes away and withdrawing his hand, hoping she wouldn’t take the comparison of her to the filthy, offensive, and balding town physician too seriously. She ignored his jest and shifted her attention back to the journal, running her fingers along the words as if to reassure herself that it was real. He watched as she perched her glasses onto her nose, her mouth moving as she read, shifting the pages closer to the lamp and turning up the flame. She was lost, and so was he.</p><p>“I think I’ll leave you to that.” He stood, donning his hat and resting his jacket on his arm, taking his empty plate in hand.</p><p>She barely looked up, but nodded her acknowledgement.</p><p>“Good night, Dana,” he said.</p><p>He opened the door, letting the sounds and light from the outside invade her space. When he turned back once more, she was watching him, smiling. “Good night, Mulder. I hope you do sleep well -- just remember that ghasts aren’t real.”</p><p>He chuckled and tipped his hat at her before leaving. Tucking her words and the look on her face inside himself, he thought that, perhaps, good dreams weren’t entirely impossible tonight.</p>
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<a name="section0007"><h2>7. New York</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Lunches in the dining room or kitchen, and dinners in her room had become customary. He brought her more journals, which she read into the night, staying up far too late and waking bleary-eyed and happy. It had been nearly a year since she’d been able to keep up on any new medical developments. Even though she knew she’d never get the chance to pursue a career in the field, reading about others’ work gave her a taste of her old life, reminding her of why she’d wanted to be a physician in the first place.</p><p>As happy as the articles made her, the darkness within her deepened by the same degree. That Mulder had known she’d want them made her pause and feel guilty. His friendship had been a comfort, something she didn’t know she needed. But how could friendship stay strong when it was one-sided? She tested him, poked fun at his stories, but walled herself off from anything deeper. Sooner, rather than later, she felt it would not be enough.</p><p>Would losing his friendship, an unbearable thought, be worse than sharing a part of herself that she’d buried so deeply, she felt belonged to a completely different person? Could she be the woman that she once was? The possibility of her former self re-emerging thrilled and terrified her.</p><p>It was dinner. He sat across from her, telling another story, trying to convince her of something mad. For once, she was only half-listening, lost in her thoughts of where this connection between them was going. She’d never been able to pretend very well, though, and Mulder noticed.</p><p>“You’re not listening, Dana,” he said. He wasn’t upset, even though she felt he had a right to be. “Story’s a bit too far-fetched, even for me I admit.”</p><p>“I’m… I’m sorry, Mulder, I was just distracted.”</p><p>“Anything you care to share?” He smiled at her, his eyes soft and gentle. He never pushed, never tried to force anything out of her. Sometimes she wished he would.</p><p>The same old conversation, she thought. <i>‘No, I’m fine’, is your next line, Dana.</i></p><p>She found herself, instead, telling a story of her own.</p><p>“My father, he… was a captain in the navy, during the war,” she started, not quite believing she was telling him this. If she went far back enough, things weren’t so bad. “He’d distinguished himself, made a name for himself, despite being an immigrant.”</p><p>She looked out the window, at her own warped reflection in the frosted glass. The lamp painted her face in grotesque shadows. Her hands found the edge of her napkin, fraying the edges.</p><p>Swallowing, she continued. “He was able to use his influence to help his children get into good schools. I excelled. We were very close. I think… he was proud of me,” she paused, blinking back the threat of tears. “He died, about a year ago.”</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Mulder said, his hand reaching across to cover hers, stilling their restless movements.</p><p>“I’d been accepted into medical school, a rare thing for a woman,” she looked back at him. “New York—it is the very best and the very worst, at the same time.”</p><p>Mulder nodded, squeezed her hand, his focus giving her courage. She trusted him, not knowing why she should. Her father told her she’d had good instincts about people, recognizing almost immediately who had integrity, and who did not. Looking at Mulder now, she knew him, almost as much as she knew herself.</p><p>“My brothers. They didn’t do so well in school. They… got involved with different sorts of people. It was a vicious circle—they could not please their father by being smart or hard-working, so they tried to win him over by bringing home money obtained from more dishonest means. My father was aware of how these… groups preyed on those who were less fortunate. Their relationship only got worse. When he died…”</p><p>Dana withdrew her hand, clenched them underneath the table. It hurt to say the words, to allow the reality of what had happened to enter the air of this room, to add to the weight on Mulder’s already heavy shoulders by sharing her burden with him.</p><p>“Because I was an unmarried woman, they took control. I had no other recourse. They would not allow me to go to school. Instead, they said I was to marry.”</p><p>“But you wouldn’t,” Mulder leaned forward.</p><p>“The person—” she stopped. “I do not like to speak harshly, to judge, but the man they wanted to give me to was just the sort of person you would expect, given their type of dealings. I suspect I was meant to be payment. Their younger sister in exchange for more power, more money.” She spat the words out like venom. The anger she’d felt when she’d first realized what her brothers intended came back with equal strength.</p><p>“I thought I could reason with them. Perhaps I could be a doctor for their ‘organization’. I would have done anything, except they would not listen. They use violence and intimidation to do what they want, I could do nothing. There was no one else after Papa...”</p><p>Dana breathed heavily and covered herself with her shawl, overcome with a sudden chill, though the room was not cold. There, she’d done it, for good or ill. She’d run from her family, abandoned her life while he had chased ghosts for ten years in hopes to bring his own back together. </p><p>“So you find yourself here, in hiding? Playing school marm and nursemaid to a bunch of —”</p><p>“Mulder.”</p><p>“I’m sorry, I just...” </p><p>When she looked up at him again, his face, normally filled with amusement and softness and passion, was now like a stormcloud, staring off into the darkness of her room. It reminded her of his outburst in her room late at night, what seemed like so long ago. </p><p>“Your mother?” he said.</p><p>“She… could do nothing. She felt my choice to be a doctor was a mistake, that I should accept my duty to the family, and be a wife. That I should accept it without complaint,” she said. Guilt rose up inside her, thinking about her mother: they would not hurt her, would they? “I don't have a family any more, Mulder.”</p><p>He rose from his chair and paced. She could feel his anger coming off of him in waves, while she shivered in place, unmoving.</p><p>“There must be something—”</p><p>“I have learned to live with my fate, Mulder.” </p><p>“I don’t accept that,” he said, waving his hands around her modest room. “You deserve so much better than this.”</p><p>“Please, sit.” </p><p>He looked at her, saw her.</p><p>“You’re cold.” He brought over a quilt from her bed and laid it across her shoulders, rubbing his warm hands along her arms before crouching beside her. She let out a shaky breath, imagined she could see the water vapor apparating between them.</p><p>“I can see your mind working. Trying to think of something to do. Please, Mulder. It is too risky.”</p><p>“Are these people really that dangerous?”</p><p>She nodded, silently pleading with him.</p><p>He looked at her, reluctant but steady, then cupped her face. “I do not agree. But I promise.”</p><p>She sighed and closed her eyes, leaning into his hand. Warmth spread through her chest at his touch. She was so tired, but the weight of her secrets had been somewhat lightened, and his promise lifted her spirits. She chanced a smile when she opened her eyes.</p><p>“If all of this hadn’t happened, we wouldn’t have met. Perhaps this was all meant to be, fate… destiny,” she pressed her lips into his palm, and brought his hand down to her lap. “I will not pretend though. It was terrible, and difficult, and I have not shared everything.”</p><p><i>But I will</i>, was her unspoken promise.</p><p>Mulder caressed her hands with his own, remaining close. The warm lamplight enhanced his features: his stubbled jaw, full lips, strong nose. She couldn’t help it, her hand rose to his mouth, caressed his bottom lip with her thumb. He froze, searched her eyes, his anger disappearing under her touch, replaced with something else. Something she recognized, that he’d awakened within her these past weeks as well. </p><p><i>Yes</i>, she thought, willing herself to speak the words aloud, for her thoughts to reach into his mind.</p><p>Suddenly, he blinked, and shook his head. She dropped her hand back to her lap as he stood up, taking his things and moving to leave.</p><p>He turned before opening the door. “Thank you, Dana,” he said, his voice like sandpaper. “For telling me.”</p><p>“Good night, Mulder.”</p><p>He smiled, meeting her eyes with a shy smile. “Good night.”</p>
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<a name="section0008"><h2>8. A distraction</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ever since that night in Dana’s room, something had shifted between them. <i>I chose this</i>, he told himself. And yet… he was scared. The pull towards her was irresistible. When alone, his mind was consumed with thoughts of their next meeting. Then the guilt settled over him. Not only had his pursuit of his sister all but halted, but he kept thinking of Madam’s warnings that he’d inevitably ruin everything he touched. </p><p>His brain worked opposite to his heart - like a magnet shifting polarities, pulling him closer and pushing him away with equal force.</p><p>He owed it to Samantha to find her, and he owed it to Dana to ensure she had someone she could count on. Especially after all that she’d been through. He seethed at the thought that her brothers could so utterly betray her like that. How could he possibly give her everything she deserved, when he was only half of a man on his best days? </p><p>Mulder pushed away his thoughts as he worked. He hammered away in the stables behind the brothel, adding onto the structure under the careful supervision of the caretaker, John, who’d reluctantly allowed him to help. </p><p>“Wait! Wait, Mulder…” the other man interrupted, adjusting the plank of wood so it rested just a little more to the left. Mulder didn’t see a difference, so he shrugged and returned to hammering, pulling a nail from where he held them in his mouth.</p><p>John Byers was a bit of a jack-of-all-trades for the Madam. Taking care of small repairs, picking up supplies. He was thin, brown-haired, with a small goatee, and he was as skittish as a colt any time he had to actually enter the building or interact with any of the girls. So, mostly, he stayed to himself. Mulder discovered his keen mind soon after arriving all those years ago, so they’d developed a bit of a bond, discussing philosophy and more complicated topics that were beyond most of the rest of the staff here. </p><p>“You seem to be spending a lot of time with that Schaeffer woman,” John commented. Mulder, having just banished thoughts of her from his mind, dropped the hammer onto the ground, his hands suddenly sweaty.</p><p>“We haven’t really talked much since I’ve been back, have we?” Mulder said, retrieving the hammer and wiping his hands on his trousers. </p><p>“Thought you’d forgotten about me.”</p><p>“We should catch up then, how about dinner?”</p><p>John nervously looked back towards the building. “We don’t need to stay here for that do we?”</p><p>Mulder chuckled, stripping down to only his undershirt and trousers. He’d been sweating with the work but hadn’t felt so warm until John brought up Dana. He hoped his flush at his thoughts about her would be disguised under the glare of the oppressive sun. It wouldn’t do for anyone to think there was anything more than a friendship between them, he knew how rumors had the potential to ruin her. </p><p> I'll have to be more careful when I visit her room.</p><p>It felt good to exert himself, though, to banish his endless introspection, at least temporarily. He inhaled fully, smiling despite the sharp tang of horse and hay and manure. Underneath it all was the clean smell of the pine lumber. How different this was than the usual places he frequented, hoping for some word of his sister - the smoke-filled interiors, the sweet scent of whiskey and the vile smell of death and sickness. </p><p>Once the structure he’d been building had a good frame, and his work consisted of the repetitive laying of planks side-by-side, John stopped hovering. He wandered away, mumbling about wanting to complete a delivery before he had to navigate the late afternoon crowds.</p><p>Hoist up the plank, place the nail, hammer, place another nail, hammer. The methodical work lulled him into a comforting rhythm. He shut everything out, his mind a pleasing blank.</p><p>“I missed you at lunch.”</p><p>Mulder slammed the hammer into the wood instead of the nail, nearly hitting his thumb. He turned around, seeing Dana standing there with a bottle of soda. The condensation dripped over her hand as she held the drink out to him. </p><p>“I thought you could use this, working hard out here in the heat,” she said.</p><p>He stared as he set down his hammer and took the proffered drink, the brief touch of her cold fingers against his own causing his heart to leap in his chest. There was something… different about her. She seemed nervous, or was he merely seeing a reflection of his own state of mind?</p><p>As he drank, he saw a flush creep up into her cheeks before she turned away. </p><p>“You want some, too?”</p><p>“I’m fine, Mulder.”</p><p>Instead of leaving, she swept off a chair nearby and sat. Well, it was going to be considerably more complicated to work with her here. He had a feeling John would be cursing his name when he had to redo the stall - crooked planks and nails bent every which way due to his distraction. Nevertheless, he worked away, hoping to push her from his mind as she chatted, seemingly oblivious to her effect on him.</p><p>He was sweating profusely now, trying to listen while pushing his body to its limit, hoping he wouldn’t have room for anything else other than her words and the work. Pulling the hem of his shirt from his trousers, he wiped his brow as sweat dripped into his eyes.</p><p>“...the effects of poison on—”</p><p>Her voice disappeared with a soft gasp, and he turned towards her in alarm. The faint flush in her cheeks was now tinged a deeper shade of red. She was focused intently on him, her blue eyes dark, her chest rising and falling rapidly.</p><p>“You okay, Dana?” </p><p>His body worked as his mind stumbled. The hammer he’d been using slammed into his finger, and shooting pain traveled along his arm. Every thought, as he’d wished earlier, vanished from his mind. He regretted his wish.</p><p>“Aw, FUCK!”</p><p>Dana rushed over to him, hand on his arm. “Oh, Mulder… let me see.”</p><p>His hand, covered in sawdust and dirt, wasn’t much to look at. She guided him over to the water pump, and helped him clean it off while he bit his lip and tried his hardest not to swear again. When she touched his thumb, the gentleness he was so used to from her was gone, in its place the physician she was meant to be - unsympathetic and efficient.</p><p>“Ouch!” He pouted, pulling away his hand.</p><p>“Stop it.” She held out her hand, her voice firm. “Give me your hand, I need to check it.”</p><p>He grumbled, but gave his hand back, looking away and tensing his whole body as she examined him. When she manipulated his finger, he winced, but he thought, perhaps, the pain wasn’t so bad. Peeking at her out of the corner of his eyes, he saw her future as it should have been and as it had ended up. Instead of white dress and a neat room with patients, she was treating a clumsy oaf in a half-built stable.</p><p>She glanced up at him. “Can you move it?”</p><p>He wiggled his finger a little bit and frowned.</p><p>“You’re fine,” she said, patting his hand gently. </p><p>He sighed and withdrew his hand. Taking advantage of the water pump, he splashed a bit more water into his hands and wiped his face with the lukewarm water. </p><p>“I am… not meant for this type of work I think.”</p><p>At her silence, he turned towards her. She watched him curiously, eyes moving over his throat as he swallowed nervously, down his chest as his now semi-transparent shirt stuck to him with water and sweat. </p><p>“Why are you so tall?” she asked. Suddenly, she was right next to him, taking ahold of his sodden shirt and pulling him down to her in a kiss.</p><p>It took only a second to get over his shock before he could respond. He couldn’t resist her soft lips against his own, the way his nose pressed against the smooth curve of her cheek, how her hand massaged the tense muscles of his shoulder and neck. She smelled wonderful: the subtle scent of her perfume, of her skin, sweet and light and feminine. His mouth opened, he needed to taste her.</p><p>She hummed her approval as he ran his tongue along her lips, tasting the bitterness of coffee and the sweetness of her. A jolt coursed from his chest down to his groin as she pulled him down further, her hand running over his chest, along his ribcage - no longer physician’s hands, but a woman’s - needy and searching. Her fingers counted the vertebrae in his back, and he could hear her voice in his head, reciting the names. The thought of her beautiful mouth working so easily around the complicated words drove him mad, and any pain he’d felt disappeared in an instant. He picked her up, sat her on a half-wall nearby, so she was now above him.</p><p>She laughed into his mouth, and he pulled away for a brief second to trace his hands over the delicate line of her jaw, to look in wonder into her eyes. Her skin was flushed, her lips glistening, and her eyes were dancing at him, but otherwise, yes, this was her. He slid his hand through her neatly bound hair, pulled on something long and thin, and her red tresses fell around her face. She smiled, lowered her mouth to his, curtaining their faces with the sweep of her hair. He let her take control, holding her carefully on the wall, drawing lazy circles along her scalp and over her hip.</p><p>The feel of her lips against his own was better than any of the fantasies he’d had about it in these past few weeks. Not shy, not Dana. She gasped with pleasure when he moved his hand in a particular way, nipped at his lips playfully, boldly explored his mouth with her tongue, touched him everywhere she could reach. When she slid one hand down to his beltline, he tore himself away from her, keeping some distance between them with his hands on her waist.</p><p>They panted heavily and stared at each other, dazed. Her hands moved upwards to rest on his shoulders and an impish smile played on her lips.</p><p>“I think, um…” he trailed off, having no idea what he’d been going to say.</p><p>“You do?” She raised an eyebrow. A thrill raced down his spine, his cock twitched, and he shifted his hips away from her. </p><p>“Please do that more often,” he said, his thumb running across the arched line of her brow.</p><p>She giggled, traced a finger along his clavicle. “I have a request, then.”</p><p>“Anything.” And he meant it. At the moment, close to her like this, her lips swollen from their kisses, her hair tousled from his own hands, he would do anything for her.</p><p>“You may not be much good at it, but I think perhaps you should find reasons to help Mr. Byers a bit more often. Would be good to learn...” she said, then her eyes fell away from him, her smile turning shy. “Just let me know so I can keep you company.”</p><p>He grinned, finally understanding what had seemed so strange about her earlier. “Liked what you saw, Miss Shaeffer?”</p><p>She licked her lips, then her eyes turned serious. “My… last name is Scully, not Shaeffer.” She sighed as she told him, relief in her eyes. “I don’t like lying to you, Mulder, but you cannot tell anyone else.”</p><p>“Dana Scully,” he whispered, as he threaded his fingers through the fine hair at her temple. She hummed in pleasure at his touch.</p><p>“You won’t miss dinner?” Her blue eyes shined at him, uncertainty flashing over her face before she buried it under a careful mask of indifference. </p><p>“Not for the world,” he said, feeling a slight twinge of guilt at so easily dismissing his plans with John. Sensing the vulnerability in her question, that she would think that he did not want to be near her every second of the day, squeezed at his heart. He didn’t much care if John did not understand.</p><p>“Good.” She smiled widely. “Now kiss me again.”</p><p>“Yes, ma’am.”</p>
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<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Well enough</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dana sat in the dining room, sipping her coffee, waiting for Mulder to join her. It had been several days, but she still couldn’t quite believe that she’d kissed him. That day in the stables, he was irresistible: sweaty and barely dressed, his strong bare arms working clumsily at woodwork. Then he’d lifted his shirt to wipe his face and she knew then that she couldn’t let herself leave without tasting him first, pressing her hands against his skin. At the thought, a heavy pulse throbbed between her thighs. She shifted uncomfortably in her chair, took a sip of her coffee to hide what must be a foolish smile and red cheeks.</p><p>When he’d joined her for dinner later that evening, it wasn’t strange or different, as she’d feared it would be. He’d told her one of his crazy stories while she argued about it’s plausibility. He teased and joked, but eyed her with affection as she went over a new medical procedure she’d read about.</p><p>After dinner, well... she sat in his lap and they’d kissed once more, leisurely and softly, continuing their discussions between caresses and laughter. His hands slid over her dress, his touch whetting her senses to a fine edge, despite layers of satin and lace. The whorls of his fingertips, each taste bud on his tongue, the softness of his lips against her neck. As things heated up, Mulder pulled away, deftly slipping out from underneath her. He retrieved his hat from where he’d playfully placed it on her head and gave her a gentlemanly peck on the cheek before saying goodnight. </p><p>But he came back the following evening, and they continued with this new routine, although it became more difficult each time to allow him to leave her at the end of the night. </p><p>The front door to the hall blew open, and Mulder rushed in, shooting her an apologetic smile before knocking on Madam’s door. He wore his usual ensemble, except due to the heatwave, his sleeves were rolled up and his shirt was unbuttoned, allowing her to admire the strong muscles of his arms, and the hint of hair peeking out from the neck of his undershirt. She fanned herself, staring blatantly at him and hoping he’d notice. </p><p>It was frustrating and amusing that he was so unaware of how physically attractive he was. She learned quickly that she couldn’t give him any ladylike hints and hope he’d realize what she wanted; instead, she had to smack him over the head with a proverbial hammer. Like whispering in his ear she wanted him to shave before dinner, so he could kiss her neck without leaving a mark. Luckily, he was good at remembering such things once she’d told him, and every evening since he’d arrived with a clean-shaven face.</p><p>“I’ll just be a minute, Dana, gonna wash up. Madam says she wants to see you though,” Mulder said, approaching her table. She could tell from the look in his eyes that he wished he could lean down and kiss her cheek. She wished he would, onlookers be damned.</p><p>As he disappeared into the washing room in the back, she watched, his pants cradling his figure in a way that sent a thrill up her spine. Sighing, hoping her state of mind was hidden from everyone else, she approached Madam’s door.</p><p>“It’s open,” the other woman said, after Dana knocked.</p><p>Madam was sitting at her desk, the smoke from her pipe creating a haze that gave the room a dreamy, soft quality. Her quarters were lit brightly, oil lamps illuminating the papers spread out over the desk’s surface. Stacks of books, and sheafs of paper lined the shelves. A rifle was mounted on the wall behind her, an heirloom from Madam's father before he’d passed. They’d bonded early on over their shared loss, a close relationship that transcended the usual expectations that fathers had for their daughters. In each case, the girl growing into a woman who knew her father was proud of her, even though society shunned them.</p><p>“You wanted to see me, Madam Hall?”</p><p>“I told you to call me Monica.” </p><p>Dana simply nodded, and sat on the high-backed chair in front of her desk, hands in her lap. She admired the owner of the Gilded Hall, though at first she hadn’t known what to make of the woman who ran an establishment that sold the bodies of young women to desperate men.</p><p>“A little birdy told me that you and Fox have become close,” Monica began, placing her pipe on its stand and steepling her hands on the desk in front of her. Her dark brown eyes watched Dana carefully.</p><p>She shifted in her seat. “He’s a good friend. Someone with whom I may speak freely.”</p><p>“You seem to be sharing more than words of late.”</p><p>Dana’s face warmed. She should have known that despite how careful she and Mulder had been to be discreet, she would find out eventually; the Madam seemed to always have news of everything important. Despite how scandalous she knew her relationship with Mulder would be seen by others, she found herself not caring if the whole town knew of it. He made her happy, for the first time in a long while. And anyway, how could someone hiding away from the world have any sort of reputation to protect?</p><p>“I don’t see how any of that should be of your concern.”</p><p>“How well do you know him, Dana?”</p><p>“Well enough,” she said, her voice tight and controlled. The ache of her desire, placed in the back of her mind, faded into a simmering anger. </p><p>“Did you know you are not the first woman in this town to catch his attention? Mulder may not show interest in the girls here, you know why that is. But a man like that could have any woman he wanted, he wouldn’t have to pay.” Madam tapped her pipe into a tray, then started to clean the bowl. Her eyes kept darting over to Dana, though, gauging her reaction.</p><p>“I think, Monica, that you step where you are not welcome, into unknown territory,” she said, a flush rising up her chest to settle on her cheeks, her fury building at the implications of her words. “You assume many things, among them, that I cannot make my own decisions regarding such matters.” </p><p>Monica set her pipe down once more, and leaned forward. Her eyes were sympathetic, which only aggravated her further.</p><p>“I am only looking out for you, Dana.”</p><p>“You pretend to know me, but you regard me as someone else I think. I am not Edith!” Dana’s anger boiled over. She knew Monica looked at her, sometimes, seeing someone else. The loaned dresses, the conversations they had, the distant look in her eyes. The other woman was unwilling to see her, as she clutched onto her past.</p><p>Monica was silent, her emotions flashing in her eyes at the outburst. Still, she deliberated carefully over her words before speaking. </p><p>“Of course you aren’t,” Monica said, sadness softening her usually stony face. Guilt at her outburst quenched the fire that had built inside her chest. When she’d arrived at the Gilded Hall, she’d had nearly nothing. Only a few dollars to her name, and her fierce pride. Monica took her in, looked her over, questioned her. Saw something else besides the bravado and singular torn dress. She’d given her Edith’s things, let her recover, and didn’t even mention the possibility of servicing the men. Relief flooded her when she’d told her she’d be teaching the girls and helping with their needs in between visits by the physician. She owed her everything, but she could not pretend to be someone else.</p><p>“I’m sorry, Monica,” Dana said.</p><p>“It’s all right, Dana. I know you can take care of yourself. I forget sometimes,” she paused. Running her hand along her mouth, contemplating the woman in front of her, she continued. “My last name isn’t Hall, you know.”</p><p>She nodded, and forced herself to relax, to listen instead of react.</p><p>“It was Edith’s last name. I took it when we moved here.” Monica’s hand reached out to the only portrait she kept on her desk, her fingers tracing the woman’s face.</p><p>“How did she die?” Dana asked.</p><p>“Influenza,” Monica said. She looked at Dana sharply. “You are nothing like her. I think I thought if you wore her dresses, if you stayed here and kept me company, you would change into her.” She laughed. “Now I’m sounding like your fellow, Fox.”</p><p>“What was she like?”</p><p>“She was soft, sweet, let me decide most things. She never had a bad word to say about anybody, unless they hurt a woman, then nothing could stop the fire coming from her mouth. It was all about profits for me, before Edith. I never would have done all that I do, if it hadn’t been for her.” Monica looked past her, seeing the ghost of her lover in the corner of her room. “I don’t think he’s a good choice for you, Dana. But he’d be crazy not to love you.”</p><p>Dana rose from the couch. She understood where Monica’s concern originated, but she could feel her stubborn anger rising within her and she needed to leave before she said something she regretted. Ever since she was little, when her mother tried to get her to show more interest in dolls and dresses instead of books and her father’s guns, she resented when people tried to force her path. But more than that, she hated when people misunderstood Mulder, didn’t see past the arrogant, jovial face he presented to the world, to the hurting, sensitive man underneath. How he ached to do the right thing, anguished over his decisions.</p><p>“I’ll leave you, Monica, if that’s all?”</p><p>Monica nodded, and relit her pipe. The smoke puffed between them, masking the woman’s face from her as she left the room.</p><p>Dana shut the door quietly behind her. Mulder was sitting at her table, a smile spread across his face as he joked with Melvin. He really was handsome. The way his dark hair flopped over his forehead, strong forearms leaning on the table in front of him. When he saw her there, his eyes caught hers and her heart skipped a beat. The way he focused on her, made her feel like she was the only woman in the room - surely, this was something special to him, just as it was to her.</p><p>She smiled back and joined him at the table. All of her experiences with him told her the truth of his intentions. Still, Monica’s words needled at her from the place in her mind that they settled. Mulder could have anyone he wanted. Edith had been soft and sweet, and Dana was nothing like her. Deep down, Dana knew she was different, hollow, broken. With Mulder, she thought the empty places within her had been filling, turning her back into the woman she once was. Even if she could be fixed, would she be the woman he truly wanted?</p><p>Mulder’s hand on hers stilled her mind. “I’m sorry I was late.”</p><p>Looking back at him, she saw the evidence of his affection for her written on his face. He made her feel as though she deserved to feel again, to experience life fully, and she would not abandon it because of unsubstantiated rumor and guesswork. He was worth it, and she was beginning to believe that she was, too.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Perfume and cleavage</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Things were right for once in Mulder’s godforsaken life. He was happy, he made someone else happy. So why did it terrify him? Because he knew it was only a matter of time before fate stepped in and fucked everything up. She’d be taken away one way or another - whether by her own choice or someone else’s.</p><p>For now, though, he found a way to push those thoughts aside and enjoy himself. He could have so easily taken the next step with her, make love to her as she seemed to want. Her hungry lips and daring hands pushed themselves further in that direction every evening, and it was harder and harder to tear himself away. </p><p>If he did that, though, there was no turning back. He would be gone, as surely as if he’d jumped off a cliff. And Dana… he wasn’t sure he could force that upon her, even though he knew she was a woman who could make her own decisions. But did she really know what she was getting into, by stacking her cards next to his and wagering the lot?</p><p>“For such a lucky guy, you sure are a fuckin’ sad sight,” Melvin said, leaning against the bar near Mulder, as he wiped a glass and frowned.</p><p>“Don’t know if I’ve ever been considered lucky.”</p><p>“The way Dana looks at you, Mulder…” Melvin sighed. “If I had a woman that fine who looked like she wanted to fuck me a smile would never leave my goddamn face.”</p><p>“Christ, Melvin, would you keep that to yourself,” Mulder whispered, as Langly emerged from the kitchens. The skinny cook with blonde scraggly hair, and a similar disaffection for his first name, eyed them both with suspicion.</p><p>Melvin shrugged, walked back to the other side of the counter, placing the glass with the others. </p><p>“Just a piece of advice from an expert in these things,” Melvin started, and Mulder snorted in response. “Don’t be so fuckin’ morose all the time, she’ll get tired of it eventually. And when she does, just send her my way, huh? I’ll make sure she never has a reason to be unhappy.”</p><p>Melvin waggled his eyebrows and made a suggestive gesture with his hips.</p><p>“You’re disgusting,” Mulder said. He knew, though, that the bartender had something of value to offer. <i>I’m happy, goddamnit, and I’m going to fucking go along with it, at least for her sake. As long as she willed it.</i></p><p>“Who’re ya talkin’ about?” Langly asked. Mulder ignored him. Madam knew, as he’d heard from Dana, and Melvin knew. He didn’t need anyone else in their business. Didn't need anyone else getting the wrong idea about her.</p><p>The doors to the hall swung open, the bright light from the rising sun blazing into the dining room. Mulder squinted his eyes and shielded his face from the glare, curious at who was entering the joint at such an hour.</p><p>“Fucking shit,” Melvin grumbled. </p><p>It was Diana. </p><p>“That her?” Langly whistled appreciatively. “Damn.”</p><p>Mulder cursed under his breath, memories of the woman flooding back. The guilt over how he’d used her, how he’d left things time and time again, her accusing eyes burning a hole in the back of his head. How could he have forgotten, until this very moment, that she’d show up?</p><p>He stood from his stool and walked over, intending to guide her out the door and speak on the porch.</p><p>Melvin muttered under his breath as he passed him, echoing his thoughts. “Get rid of that fucking woman, Mulder. Right quick.”</p><p>Mulder nodded and waved his hand at him in acknowledgement. Diana being here would only cause trouble: she and Dana would not get along. A little voice in the back of his mind told him, in fact, that having the two of them in the same room would be much like a standoff between sheriff and outlaw, guns at the ready.</p><p>His guilt persisted, though, making any attempt at rushing her rudely out of the door an impossibility.</p><p>“Fox!” Diana gushed, as he approached her. He reached for the door handle but she was quicker than him, and his choice was either press himself against her, all perfume and cleavage, or keep his distance. He chose the latter.</p><p>Seeing her reminded him of all of the wrong choices he’d made in his life, before he’d met Dana. Like being thrown from a horse and submerged in the cold water of the Green River. He’d used her to get answers, and she’d been only too happy to provide them, whispering the words over her pillows at night. What was a harmless dalliance with a willing woman? He’d always left before dawn, though, remorse overshadowed by his drive to find his sister, the only thing that mattered to him. The price he’d paid for his search, was it worth it? He’d been so sure, back then, but now he doubted everything. </p><p>“You didn’t come see me,” Diana pouted. She traced her finger along the collar of his jacket, her chest rising and falling heavily. He was ashamed to say he couldn’t help but look, frozen in place by the unwelcome memories invading his mind at her return.</p><p>“You… ah, know how it is,” he said, attempting to back away, but only succeeding in toppling over a chair. “Walt and Melvin cracking the whip, complaining about how little use I am but nevertheless finding things for me to do.”</p><p>“Is that all?” she said. Her eyes pierced into his, and he knew that she knew, somehow. Who didn’t then? How could his friendship with Dana, so recently bloomed into something else, something entirely unfamiliar, be so unmistakable to everyone else? He eyed the onlookers in the dining room, his mind fresh with suspicion.</p><p>She continued when he remained silent. “You should come for dinner.”</p><p>That wasn’t how they ever did things, but she always asked, and he always refused. This time, with no lie for an excuse.</p><p>“I am occupied tonight, Diana.”</p><p>Her brown eyes hardened. She was a woman unused to not getting her way, to being refused. One of these days he felt like she’d ask the question with a revolver held to his gut.</p><p>“Well, Fox…” she wet her lips and brushed closer to him. “You don’t seem particularly happy to see me. Can’t I even get a kiss hello?”</p><p>The polite smile on his face shifted into a grimace as she leaned up and kissed him, easily reaching his cheek. Diana was a tall woman, only a few inches shorter than himself. All he could think of, in the moment, was how much he enjoyed being pulled down into a kiss instead. </p><p>How much of a difference it made when the woman kissing him didn’t attach a price to her affections, or make him feel as though his search for his sister was not only futile, but foolish and unworthy of a gentleman such as himself. Why didn’t he return to his parents, join his father in his successful law practise, and take a wife who would not only make him respectable, but enhance his status in the eyes of his peers? Knowing how much his father would agree with Diana, and approve of her, only impressed upon him how wrong that choice would be.</p><p>Diana chattered away, ignoring his discomfort at the way she touched him: fondling his shirt sleeves, pressing close, her hand lingering possessively on the center of his chest. It was all or nothing with her. When he needed her most, in the depths of his sorrow, she was nowhere to be found, or cold and distant. When he was well again, determined and focused, she couldn’t get enough of him. Had it always been this way? He thought so, but before he’d ignored it, sought his answers, and didn’t worry about the guilt that she’d made him feel for wanting things at the wrong times. </p><p>He desperately searched his mind for a way to make a polite exit, responding to her only when needed. After an interminable period of pretending to be interested in her words, Walt pushed through the front doors, his wide-shouldered frame knocking him away from Diana.</p><p>“Excuse me, miss,” Walt said, as he removed his hat and stepped out of the way.</p><p>“Oh, hey, Walt. You needed help with that, uhh, delivery for the Madam, right? It completely slipped my mind.”</p><p>Walt stared at him, unimpressed, but did not speak.</p><p>“It was good to see you Diana, but, uh, you’d best be on your way,” Mulder stammered.</p><p>Diana looked at him, jaw clenched, flush rising up her chest to color her cheeks. She was shrewd, not that she needed to be to see through his flimsy excuse. She wouldn’t say anything, though, for sake of her pride.</p><p>“Well,” she huffed. “I guess I shall see you another time.”</p><p>Leaning upwards once more, she kissed his cheek again, lingering there to whisper in his ear. </p><p>“Just remember, Fox, who has given you more than anyone, these past few years,” she said. “You need me, more than I need you.”</p><p>As she opened the door, her figure shadowed by the sunlight streaming in behind her, the set of her spine and shoulders betrayed her fury. He knew that he would pay dearly for turning her away on his own terms instead of hers. Instead of trepidation, though, it was only relief he felt that she was gone. He’d deal with anything else later.</p><p>When the doors closed, Mulder felt he could breathe once more. </p><p>“Thanks for backing me up, Walt, as it was,” he said. </p><p>“Don’t know why you had to treat Miss Fowley so offensively, Mulder. She’s a lady, deserves the courtesy of the truth, that you’ve been occupying yourself with Miss Schaeffer of late,” Walt said, glaring at him with his red-rimmed eyes. “And don’t think about using me for some poor excuse again, or you’ll find my boot on your neck the next time.”</p><p>Mulder shrugged, wiping his brow. <i>Did everyone know about Dana and I?</i></p><p>Walt stomped away, headed to his usual table beside the door, grumbling to himself as he tossed his hat on the table, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Whiskey!”</p><p>“Hair of the dog, comin’ right away, no need to fuckin’ yell,” Melvin said, already prepared with a glass and bottle. He nudged Mulder roughly on his way to Walt’s table. </p><p>“You just fucked up big time,” Melvin hissed, jerking his head behind him. Looking in that direction, he saw Dana, shoulders hunched, rushing away from him back to her room.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Unburdening</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In her room, Dana paced. She'd started folding her things, digging out any scraps that she could call her own. Very little sat upon her bed, reminding her of the futility of her efforts. She had nowhere to go but what choice did she have? </p><p>
  <i>Of course this would happen, of course. I should have known.</i>
</p><p>All the small hints she’d ignored, the warnings from Monica. Everything she'd dismissed felt suddenly significant: he was obsessively secretive about being with her, he never touched her unless she touched him first, and he always escaped her room before she was ready. There was another woman, and she wasn't sure if it was the pangs of jealousy, or that he'd left her so humiliated that hurt more.</p><p>Other thoughts intruded, her mind a confusing swirl. The look in his eyes, his attentiveness, how much time they spent together. <i>All evidence that he cares for me, isn’t it?</i> But she couldn’t deny what she saw. <i>How could I have been so wrong?</i></p><p>A timid knock at her door, a familiar rhythm. Mulder.</p><p>It opened, barely. “Can I come in?”</p><p>She didn’t answer, and though she faced away from him, she felt his presence when he entered and heard the muffled snick of the door when he closed it behind him. </p><p>“I don’t know how much you saw—”</p><p>“Enough.”</p><p>The idea of leaving this place made her hands shake, set her heart racing, a cold trickle of sweat tracing a path down her spine. She disguised her trembling hands by clenching them into fists, welcoming the pain of her nails digging into her flesh. </p><p>“I’m sorry you had to see that.” </p><p>She whipped around, cold anger replacing her grief. “That I had to find out that way? About your other women?”</p><p>“Dana… I...” he said, his voice trailing away, looking similarly anguished.</p><p>She stared at him, waiting for him to explain why he’d let another woman touch him so intimately, though he remained silent, eyes filled with shame. It killed the last shred of hope that lay within her. She felt sick, and when a surge of panic threatened to overtake her, she slipped on her mask. That it was so easy to do so convinced her that everything she’d been pretending at had all been an act. The hurt, the anger, it didn't matter, it wasn't real. Neither were her feelings for him, she supposed. She shivered, and stepped further away from him.</p><p>"We've been fooling ourselves; myself most of all," she said. "I am not what you are looking for, sir. And we have not made any promises to each other. You are free to do as you wish."</p><p>She blinked, slowly, wishing she could take back her words. Wishing she could take back the last few weeks. He closed the distance between them, so close she could smell him: his familiar scent blended with the sickly sweet perfume of the other woman. She moved out of his reach, her gut twisting painfully. </p><p>“You smell like her,” she said, voice hoarse. She would not cry.</p><p>He stepped away, removing his jacket and his shirt, discarding them on the floor near her vanity. Pouring water from her pitcher into the basin, he washed himself, scrubbing away the last remnants of the other woman upon his face and neck. When he turned back to her, she saw newfound determination in his expression, as if he’d washed away everything but what he must say. She nodded. She would listen.</p><p>"I am the only fool here, Dana,” he said softly. “There is no other woman besides you who matters to me. If I've not made my intentions clear, I am sorry."</p><p>"Your intentions? To sit passively while I or another woman takes advantage of you? Would you have acted the same with her as you do with me if not for your audience?"</p><p>He rubbed his hands over his face, looked at her imploringly. "I have made mistakes in the past — Diana was one of them. Was. But none as much as I have by not telling you what you mean to me."</p><p>He got down on his knees in front of her.</p><p>"Dana. Please believe me. I am sorry for not pushing her away, but I swear to you that whatever I had with her is all in the past. I would not have any other except you, until my breath gives out."</p><p>He reminded her of the words she said to him, that night in her room so long ago. When she’d decided he could be trusted, that she wanted him close. His eyes spoke the truth, but could she depend on her own judgment? Her detachment from the roiling anger and despair gave her no more insight into what she should do.</p><p>“Please, Dana, do not leave,” he begged, his glance stealing over to the things she’d gathered on her bed. His entire body strained towards her, but he did not bridge the distance between them. “My past is not perfect. I am not near worthy enough for you, but you inspire me to do better. I want all of you, but I would settle for whatever you would offer.” </p><p>As he kneeled, desperate and full of intensity and passion, her decision came quickly, surprisingly: she believed him. So used to thinking the worst, it was easy to fall victim to her own insecurities. More difficult to take a leap of faith, trust in someone. As her father knew, she had good instincts, she would rely on them now. But instead of feeling relief at his devotion to her, she felt defeated, lost.</p><p>"You still do not know me, not truly. How you could know that I am what you want when I have hidden much from you."</p><p>"Then tell me, Dana."</p><p>Her shoulders slumped, and she withdrew from him, sitting on the edge of her bed. Silence hung between them. Her fingers twitched restlessly, soothing the ruffled lace of her dress.</p><p>"I have… done things, Mulder. Things that I think would horrify you. As surely as the sun will rise tomorrow, I am damned. I'd thought, perhaps, I'd been on my way to redemption, but I've been lying to myself." </p><p>She looked at Mulder once more, below her on the tattered rug between her and the door, his palms resting in his lap, facing upwards in supplication. Eyes soft and full of emotions that were out of her reach.</p><p>Continuing, the words fell from her mouth more easily than she thought they'd come. Dead and emotionless, they did not fill the chasm between them. </p><p>"The worst, Mulder, has been my lie to you. I have been only acting as someone worth loving," she said. "When I left New York, I was alone… naïve to think that I would be safe. That man who attacked Nellie was not nearly the first who fell by my hands. "</p><p>She looked at him to observe his reaction; he did not seem shocked by her words.</p><p>"I know he deserved it, they all had. With each man, shot through the belly, the throat, the chest, I've been tearing through my own soul, creating wounds just as great as those who bled on the ground." She twisted her hands against each other. "I remember how I felt after the first. No sadness, but relief. I was glad. Glad!"</p><p>Her eyes closed at the memory of the large man above her, one hand holding hers above her head. The shock on his face at the sound of her revolver, as she'd shot him in the gut after slipping one of her hands free. The smell of piss and shit and blood as he'd died, ruining the dress as surely as her gun had ripped a hole through it and him.</p><p>“I learned my lesson, after that one. Didn’t let them get close enough to touch me after that. Perhaps they didn’t mean me harm, but I felt no sorrow over their deaths,” she whispered. “What sort of person does that make me, Mr. Mulder.”</p><p>“It makes you a survivor, Dana,” he said, inching slightly closer to her. The sadness in his face contrasted with her own hollowness. He was a sensitive man, his anger and outrage so easily aroused at injustice inflicted upon anyone who did not deserve it. How could she dare to think they would fit well together. Cold and hot, ice and flame.</p><p>He reached out and touched her wrist, still tentative. </p><p>“I am empty. You are right to want nothing to do with me, to not want to touch me,” she said, holding her fists ever tighter as he covered them with his own.</p><p>“You are not empty,” he said. “And I have only been holding back because I...”</p><p>He stopped, looked downwards. His fingers entwined with hers and squeezed.</p><p>“I do not want to scare you.”</p><p>She smiled, but it did not reach her eyes. “Fear is something I do not feel easily either.”</p><p>“You are strong. You do not let people see you, even when we are close I can sometimes feel your distance. But you are there Dana, I have seen your soul shining through your eyes. And when that happens I feel like the most fortunate man on this earth.” </p><p>She said nothing, but doubted his words. </p><p>“I made a choice, a few weeks back. When you shot that man. I thought you’d been hurt, and I knew then that I couldn’t spend my life running away from things I felt I didn't deserve. The only choice I had was to be by your side and to love you. That is my truth.” He pressed his thumb into the back of her hand, and she felt herself unwind, loosen at his touch. “When I climbed through your window that night, it was fated. We should not ignore it.”</p><p>“You are a romantic, Mulder. The idea of something does not mean that it will work in reality. A relationship takes work. I will take work,” she said, though her heart pounded at his words. <i>Love?</i> </p><p>“If it is fate, those other things will not matter. We just have to try. I’m asking you to give this a chance, Dana, to believe in us. To believe in yourself. And to trust me when I say that you are not lost.”</p><p>She searched his face, feeling a pinprick of hope inside her chest as his words sunk in. That he felt similar to her, broken, but there was no doubt in her mind he was worth the effort.</p><p>
  <i>Perhaps I am worthy, too? </i>
</p><p>"Okay," she said, taking another leap. He made her feel as if anything were possible. </p><p>His eyes lit up briefly, but then he looked away. “After learning what you’ve been through, how can I be free with my affections and not feel like I am bringing back unpleasant memories?”</p><p>She exhaled, grasped his hands within her own and waited until he looked at her once more. “I have only felt safe when we are together. I want… I want you to touch me. To want me.”</p><p>He nodded, and sat beside her, sliding his hand along her arm and cradling her neck. She leaned into him, gooseflesh rising along her skin, sparks of electricity illuminating the darkness within her. </p><p>“I do want you, but... I have been starved for so long, Dana. I didn’t even realize it, until you showed me what I was missing. I cannot lose you and I’m terrified that I will.”</p><p>He sighed and looked past her, the ache of distant memories shadowing his face. Running her hand along his arm, keeping him close, she listened.</p><p>“There is something else holding me back. I am afraid that if we make love, we could not go back to our friendship, if you changed your mind. If you knew what I was really like, and decided that I was no longer the man you wanted.”</p><p>She started to speak, but he pressed his thumb against her lips, silenced her with pleading eyes.</p><p>“You and me, whatever the arrangement… it is the next chapter of my life. And your name is written in every chapter, on every page until the last.”</p><p>“Oh, Mulder,” she said, leaning towards him. </p><p>He pressed his forehead against hers, and they breathed each other in. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and bit her lip, holding back tears. There was no doubt in her mind now, about him, about them. She did not move, holding his precious words, making sure she would remember. In contrast, his hands moved restlessly along her arms, her back, through her hair - searching for something, she thought. </p><p>“I have to tell you, Dana, of my past. Why I did not take you back here and ravish you that day, when we kissed in the stables, as much as I wanted to. Why I have held back since.”</p><p><i>Oh</i>, she thought. Warmth pooled in her chest at the image he conjured in her mind and she felt her cheeks redden. </p><p>He cleared his throat. “I have never had someone… care for me before. You say you are damned, that you are empty. But you make me feel loved, and that I am not destined for loneliness,” he said, not pulling away, but settling his hands at her waist.</p><p>Things started to make sense, the fuzzy shapes of his past coming into focus. She could not understand how no one else could have loved this man, the one she so easily accepted as a friend, and now so much more.</p><p>“Your parents?”</p><p>He huffed, attempting to withdraw from her; she grasped his arms, and kept him near. “They gave me everything, except love and attention. And after Samantha…”</p><p>He didn’t continue, but his eyes told her the rest. She nodded, wrapping her arms around him, settling her head against his chest. Her heart ached. The power that families had, to hurt those they were supposed to cherish. Determination settled in her mind, about what she needed to do, giving her strength to overcome her own questions about herself.</p><p>“I left for Oxford about a year after Samatha was taken, when I thought there was nothing I could do, when I could no longer bear the animosity from my father, the accusations from my mother. They assured me they would do everything to continue the search,” he continued. “I wondered constantly, and still do, if I should have stayed, should have started my search back then. Would it have made a difference?”</p><p>In her embrace, he was tense, memories flooding back. She nuzzled into him, running her hands over his shoulder blades, through the soft hair at the nape of his neck, and he relaxed against her. </p><p>“In England, I was unwelcome, an outsider. As for relationships… it was either entirely unsatisfying dalliances or I was misled.  As it turns out a strange American with stranger ideas makes for an interesting conquest,” he chuckled. She squeezed him tighter.</p><p>He pressed his cheek into the top of her head. Though he towered over her, she felt as though she could protect him, surrounding him with her touch and her warmth. How could she have doubted her own soul, seeing the unconscionable things that other people had done to him?</p><p>“Then there was Diana. Things are — were... were, thank God… complicated. I thought I'd finally found someone, but she turned out just like all the others. When I needed her, returning from one of her leads with nothing and in the depths of despair, she dismissed me, was disgusted by me. I couldn't blame her, I was a mess. But, when I got better, she pretended like it never happened, other it had been my fault that I was left alone. It was easy to believe her, so I went back each and every time that she beckoned.” </p><p>His heart pounded. Dana leaned back to look at him. “And you are afraid that I will be the same?”</p><p>He nodded. “I know you are not the same, but if it is my fault that I have never made a true connection, it is inevitable no matter the person. I know I am a contradiction — trying to convince you to stay while I fear that I am meant to be alone.”</p><p>She kissed his palm. “You are a living contradiction, Mulder. You think I would leave you, that I would be disgusted by you. Yet you have listened to me, heard of the terrible things I have done, and still want me near you.”</p><p>“You have not seen me at my worst. I am weak, Dana.”</p><p>“You are not weak,” she said. “And… if you will have all of me, I would have all of you. Seeing you in pain, makes me want to take it upon myself, as you do for my own. It makes me love you more, not less,” she said. </p><p>“Love?” The desperate hope in his face broke her heart.</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>He smiled brightly at her, in wonder. He traced a finger along her brow and over the bridge of her nose.</p><p>“You are so beautiful,” he said, his hand moving lower, just above her heart. “All of you.”</p><p>Brushing her hair off of her forehead, he wound a trembling hand through her hair and loosened the clasp, letting it fall in waves down her back. He pressed his lips to her temple, between her eyebrows, the tip of her nose. </p><p>“We can make this work... together. Your mess and mine,” he said.</p><p>She nodded, leaned upwards and met him as he pressed his lips against hers. At first he was gentle, but it quickly transformed into the passion she now knew that he felt for her. </p><p>Holding her close, he took her breath away with tongue and lips and touch. One of his hands travelled downwards, over her waist, lifting her skirts and caressing her stockinged calf as she gasped against his mouth. With each kiss and caress, he battered away at the stone walls she’d surrounded herself with, something she’d carried with her for so long she thought it more natural than everything that they protected. </p><p>His mouth was hot and urgent, causing a pleasing ache to settle between her thighs, waves of warmth sliding along her limbs, curling her toes. Raising her leg to settle on his lap, she moved her hand downwards, hesitated at his waist. She knew she could make him stay, that he would let her seduce him if only to keep her from doubting herself, but what did he need?</p><p>So it was she who tore her lips away from his. Both panting, leaning heavily against each other, she caressed his chest, her hand travelling over the thin cotton of his undershirt, feeling his ribs, the strong muscles of his abdomen.</p><p>“You need to go, or you will have to stay,” she said. She leaned backwards to look at him, searching his eyes. “What do you want?” </p><p>“I will stay if you wish it, but...” he trailed off.</p><p>“But?”</p><p>“Just... let me give you time to think, to change your mind.”</p><p>She shook her head and smiled.  “Pig-headed.”</p><p>He chuckled, kissed her cheek. “Dana, please understand… My whole life has been riddled with failure and bad decisions. If there is one thing I need to do right, it is this.”</p><p>“Okay,” she said simply. </p><p>“It seems I have reduced you to one word answers, sweetheart. I should summon this power when we are arguing,” he teased.</p><p>“You wouldn’t know what to do with yourself, if I started agreeing with you all the time.” She smiled, settling back into the comfort of their usual banter. </p><p>“I would be devastated,” he agreed, then grew silent, eyes darkening as he gazed at her. Kissing her firmly once more, he rose from the bed. “I am a fool, aren’t I?”</p><p>Dana giggled softly, covering her mouth with her hand. “You are the one who believes in ghasts.”</p><p>He shook his head and headed for the door, donning his clothes on the way.</p><p>“Mulder.”</p><p>Turning to look at her, she thought she saw a spark of something in his expression telling her she should convince him to stay after all.</p><p>“I do not change my mind easily.”</p><p>“Oh, believe me, I know,” he chuckled, closing the door quietly as he left. </p><p>Dana stared at the door, then closed her eyes and laid back on the bed. Previously when he’d left she’d been frustrated, confused and uncertain, but all she felt now was pleasant anticipation. Knowing how he felt, telling him all that she had, had unburdened her. But at the same time, she hurt for him, and wished that he would let her love him, that her simple touch could ease his pain. She smiled, licked her lips where he’d kissed her, tasting him.</p><p>
  <i>Soon.</i>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Outside</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <b>TW: panic attack; vomiting</b>
</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The following morning, the Madam set a task for them. It wouldn’t have been notable, except in all the weeks they’d known each other, Mulder had never seen Dana leave the Gilded Hall. The stables were as far as she went. </p><p>He talked about showing her things, wonderful sights of sunset and mountain but also abandoned buildings with the hint of mystery he found so alluring. He wanted to share these things with her, but she always refused his requests, finding excuses to keep her occupied in the brothel and teasing him about his wandering ways and lack of work ethic.</p><p>This time, though, she didn’t have much of a choice. One of the girls needed a particular salve from the physician, not one usually sought, and the Madam was away with Walt to her monthly meetings. It couldn’t wait, and she didn’t trust anyone else, not even the physician, to dispense the correct item and dosage.</p><p>Mulder waited in the dining room with a borrowed book, the late morning sun rising past the windows, as the day moved onwards to mid-afternoon. He assumed the task was urgent, but Dana was taking much longer than usual to get ready, not even venturing out to join him for lunch at the usual hour. </p><p>He took another long sip of his coffee and sighed, recalling her shy smile when she’d opened the door. Things would be okay. The worst part, confessing to her all of his terrible past, his worst decisions, now out of the way.</p><p>“Women!” Melvin shrugged, as he joined him at the table. “It’s always too fuckin’ early or too fuckin’ late.”</p><p>“She’s not usually like this, I’m sure she has her reasons,” Mulder said.</p><p>As soon as he said the words, he heard the familiar rhythm of her footsteps, quick and light, coming from her room. Rising from his chair and grabbing his hat from the table, he smiled as she approached.</p><p>“Sorry to keep you waiting,” she said, out of breath. He hadn’t seen this dress before; she usually wore muted colors. This one had bright green skirts, with dark brown sash around her waist and a high-necked white lace blouse, ruffled at the collar. A yellow-fringed shawl rested over her shoulders and a full straw bonnet hid her bright hair from view.</p><p>“Are we going to a dance I am unaware of?” Mulder said as he took her arm. He leaned down close to her ear. “You’re beautiful.”</p><p>She dipped her head and the brim of her hat hid her face from view, but he could imagine her cheeks reddening prettily. Squeezing her arm and gently nudging her with his hip, they left arm in arm out to the stables. Excitement tingled in his chest at the thought of leaving this place with her, even on a simple errand. Perhaps he could convince her to travel with him, since he’d heard recent rumors of strange lights at the old mill not ten miles from here.</p><p>The back entrance led directly to the stables. John had prepared everything, hitching Thunderhead, the old chestnut mare, to the Gilded Hall’s small cart. They didn’t need much, but it was better than travelling the dusty thoroughfare in the heat of the day.</p><p>He helped her into the front seat, then checked the harness and patted the dependable horse along her soft muzzle before sitting up next to Dana. Sitting placidly, she had her hands folded in her lap and her head bowed as if in prayer.</p><p>“All set?”</p><p>She nodded, looking away from him.</p><p>“I don’t know how much of this town you’ve explored, not that there’s much to see of course,” Mulder rambled, filling the silence. The cart bobbed up and down over the ruts in the road. Dana fanned herself, and he felt warm just looking at her gloved hands and thick layers of skirts. “Outside of it, though, I’ve seen so many things that--”</p><p>“Mulder.”</p><p>He glanced in her direction. The side of her face beaded with sweat, her chest rising rapidly.</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“I’m not in the mood for conversation,” she said, sounding tired.</p><p>He opened his mouth, then closed it. <i>She must not be feeling well</i>, he thought. Vowing to stop along the way and get her a cold drink, he kept to himself. His eyes strayed over to her on occasion, he couldn’t help himself. There definitely was something strange about her. Her back was straight, hands fidgeting in her lap and over her fan as she cooled herself. </p><p>At the physician’s office, they didn’t linger. Dana walked with purpose: shoulders forward, face upturned slightly, as if anticipating her destination. He never saw her moving idly, always a goal in mind, a place to be and things to do, unconcerned with the other people around her. When he caught her eyes, there was a shadow of something else there that he didn’t anticipate, made him feel as though he should stare down anyone whose gaze lingered too long upon her.</p><p>“Ah, Miss Shaeffer,” Doc Harbison said, looking up from his filthy desk. He counted coins, while a patient groaned miserably from one of his back rooms. It smelled awful - more than the musty, dank smell of some place hardly cleaned. He knew death was no stranger here, new and old.</p><p>“That salve, doctor, and we’ll be on our way.”</p><p>Her no-nonsense voice soothed Mulder’s rattled nerves, and he tuned out their conversation, eyes wandering along the jars on shelves lining the dimly-lit office, the varied clippings proclaiming one miracle cure or another. His eyes caught on a page, hiding partway underneath another, with a drawing on it. When he moved the page to look, his heart caught in his throat at the title.</p><p>“DISTURBED WOMAN ACTING AS PHYSICIAN, LOVING FAMILY BEGS FOR RETURN.”</p><p>There was a portrait of Dana underneath, the drawing uncanny in its resemblance.</p><p>Coughing to hide the tearing of paper, he ripped it from the wall and returned to Dana’s side. Her handkerchief was pressed to her nose with one hand, the other holding the item she came for, examining it critically. The doc snatched the coinpurse she’d traded for the item, and peered inside of it. He retrieved a coin and bit it.</p><p>“This is all you have?” she asked.</p><p>The doc rolled his eyes, not bothering to conceal his impatience. “A rare thing that; you sure you know what you’re looking for, girl?”</p><p>Dana’s shoulders straightened and she frowned. “See you again, doctor.”</p><p>Mulder grasped her arm and pulled her towards the door.</p><p>“Hopefully not too soon.” Doc Harbison grumbled, as they left into the relative fresh air of outside. Manure and mud a welcome replacement to whatever vile shit lined the surfaces and walls of the physician’s hovel.</p><p>Dana grasped the vial, placing it into a pocket hidden in her skirts. She looked up at the sun, squinting her eyes and looking around. Smiling up at him, she seemed more like herself. “Perhaps we could stop for a lemonade?”</p><p>“We should go back.”</p><p>She regarded him suspiciously. “Something is wrong.”</p><p>Helping her up again, he just nodded, moving swiftly to his own seat and snapping the reins. He wished Thunderhead lived up to her name, as she plodded down the road.</p><p>“Tell me,” she said, placing a hand on his arm. He nearly jumped at the contact. When he looked back at her, he saw her face had gone pale, her mouth a tight line.</p><p>“There was a notice in the doc’s office. Your likeness,” Mulder said, staring straight ahead. He wondered if he turned left, whether he could cut five minutes off their journey. Tightening his grip on the reins, he reassured himself that the page was hidden, the Doc didn’t even seem to have known it was there. If he hadn’t made the connection, who had the closest contact with her, then surely no one else could have. How the fuck did that notice get all the way here from New York?</p><p>The cart ran through a particularly large rut, and he reached a hand out to make sure Dana stayed upright. When she moaned and stiffened under his touch he looked at her once again. Her head was bowed and she was breathing heavily. One of her arms was pinned to her stomach, while the other held onto the side of the cart with a white-knucked grip.</p><p>“Dana?”</p><p>She didn’t respond, just trembled in place beside him.</p><p>He cracked the reins again, keeping one eye on the road, one eye on Dana. His hand rested on the seat between them, not daring to touch her lest he alarm her again.</p><p>“You okay, Dana?”</p><p>She didn’t answer at first, and the world outside the two of them vanished. Turning to face him slightly, her shaded profile and the slash of her mouth appeared below her bonnet. </p><p>“Just... get me home,” she said, struggling to get the words out. Her voice, breathy and brittle, nearly caused him to jump from the cart and carry her back, thinking it would be quicker.</p><p>When Thunderhead lumbered into the stables, Mulder cursing her slowness, the cart barely stopped before he jumped out, moving over to Dana’s side. From his perspective below her, he saw her face, drenched with sweat that could not be explained solely by the heat of the day. Her breathing was still alarmingly fast, and her hands clenched onto the wood as he reached for her.</p><p>Batting his hands away, she turned away from him, retching up her lunch in the seat he’d previously occupied.</p><p>He gave her some distance, but when she turned back to him with fear in her eyes, he reached out, beckoning her to him. Face crumpling, tears peeked out from below her eyelids and fell down her face. He caught her as she fell into his arms.</p><p>John appeared from around the corner and he spared no glance at the other man.</p><p>“Is everything--”</p><p>“Be quiet and take care of this,” Mulder said, jerking his head towards the horse. He placed Dana on the ground, supporting her with both arms.</p><p>He didn’t wait for a response, needing to get Dana to her room, half-carrying her rigid form there, and thankful for the relative privacy. The door to the stables and the hallway in the rear of the dining room sheltered them from prying eyes. The sound of laughter and the out-of-tune fiddle that Langly occasionally played reached his ears, but it didn’t register. All he knew was getting her safe, helping with whatever sickness had suddenly befallen her.</p><p>Once he shut the door, she tore away from his embrace, retching once more into the basin on her vanity. Her arms cradled her belly as she sat down on her bed, bending over as much as her dress would allow, breaths coming quickly.</p><p>“Do you need a doctor?”</p><p>She shook her head, and a sob wrenched from her mouth. He moved beside her, his hand stroking her back as she cried out, trembling violently.</p><p>Having no earthly idea what to do, he covered her with a quilt, wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly. He somehow managed to undo the ribbon under her chin and remove her hat, discarding it on the floor. He wished she’d look at him, but she refused, her face pointed downwards. </p><p>“I can’t… breathe…” she gasped, through the deep gulps of air. Backing away, thinking she needed space, she scrambled at her dress, eyes panicked as she looked up at him. She was pleading with him, fear in her eyes. “Make… make it stop.”</p><p>Suddenly things became clear, her sickness, her desperate fear, her fast breaths. He’d seen it before - his mother, a few of the girls he’d brought here.</p><p>He kneeled down in front of her, grasped her face in his hands and made her look at him. Her red face was a stranger - wild, unfocused eyes, red-rimmed from crying, her mouth twisted in an awful grimace.</p><p>“Breathe, Dana. It’s okay.”</p><p>Wrenching her face away from him, she shook her head. Her fingers tore at her dress, reaching back helplessly to undo the fastenings at her back. </p><p>“Help,” she said, through wretched sobs. The dress, the corset. Damn women’s clothes.</p><p>He turned her around, eyeing the back of her dress. While attempting to find and undo the mysterious clasps that held the material together, he became frustrated, desperate to help. The first button took too long, delicate bobble and slim hoop meant for more delicate hands. It would take ages at this rate, and he didn’t have the time. She calmed when he started, but now she was gasping for air once more, tense and hiccuping in her distress.</p><p>So he ripped the back of her dress open, heedless of the damage. The lace of the corset was next, and as he finally pulled the edges of the garment apart, giving her the room she felt she needed, she leaned forward, arms hugging her stomach. As he ran a hand across her shoulder blades, the pale skin under his hand was cold and clammy.</p><p>“You’re okay, sweetheart,” he whispered. Never before had he seen her this emotional, this terrified, and it scared the shit out of him. He placed a kiss at the meeting of her neck and shoulder, noting a hidden freckle, focusing on it, willing his rising panic away. He wouldn’t fail her, not now, not when she needed him. </p><p>It took what seemed forever, Dana shivering and sweating next to him, gasping for breath, pleading with him to help her. She heaved once more, but had nothing more to expel from her stomach, and it only served to make her cry harder. Her breathing sped up again, and he held her close, her pulse thrumming as he pressed his lips to her neck. He was worse than useless. Nothing he did helped, but he continued to speak to her, words flitting away into the room, not sure if they even reached her ears.</p><p>Finally, though, she relaxed against him. Her arm draped across his lap, breath hitching as the remnants of her tears dried upon her face, on his shirt. He kissed the top of her head, rocking her next to him.</p><p>“So tired,” she said, her voice low and scratchy. </p><p>“Lay back, I’ll get you some water.” He drew his thumb across the tear tracks along her cheek, placing another kiss on her brow before rising.</p><p>“Some of the toothpaste, too, please.”</p><p>He nodded, facing away from her as he busied himself. The pitcher was halfway empty from this morning, glasses placed neatly beside it. He told himself to clean up before he left, wanting her room to be just as it always was when she woke. Keeping his back turned, he listened to the rustling of material, as she divested herself of the rest of her clothing, the squeak of her mattress springs, as she slid into bed.</p><p>When it was quiet, he turned. The pillows behind her raised her up very little, she was nearly flat - one bare arm above her head and the other lying across the quilt, over her stomach. She faced the window as the warmth of the day turned to inky dusk.</p><p>Sitting near, he leaned over and held her head so she could sip the water. He offered her his cupped hand when she’d needed to spit out the paste she’d used to rinse her mouth. A soft smile appeared on her face, and he declared a small victory.</p><p>“Go to sleep,” he said, wiping the hair that had stuck to her forehead.</p><p>She closed her eyes, turned on her side facing him, and he watched her as she finally stilled in slumber. The line of her arm down to her slim and elegant fingers, rising and falling softly with her even, slow breaths. The wrinkle between her brows smoothed. But he could not get the image of her terrified face from his mind, no matter how hard he stared at her now.</p><p>He ached for her, hated that she had to endure such a thing. He longed to reach out and touch her, but he could not make himself. </p><p>So he stayed, and watched. And wept.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Not alone</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was still dark when she awoke. She came to consciousness slowly, rising from the thick waters of sleep as if she’d been slumbering for the winter. The edges of her mind were fuzzy, and an ache had settled behind her eyes. Then she remembered, and wished she hadn’t.</p><p>Never in her life had she been so frightened. Even when confronted by the reality of the life her brothers wanted, the vicious cruelty of her intended husband, or the men who wanted to rape her on her lonesome journey. Despite the terror of those situations, she’d only thought about what she should do, not how she should feel about it. Fear was not practical when she needed to survive. </p><p>Somehow, all of the fear she was supposed to feel back then came back a hundredfold. After the fear imprisoned her, her thoughts shifted, and all she could think about was how she was surely going to die: her racing heart, her struggle to breathe, and the waves of nausea. </p><p>Her eyes adjusted to the darkness in her room, and the memories brought her mind into sharp focus. She realized she was not alone.</p><p>Mulder. </p><p>He sat in a chair by the door, tipped back precariously, his long legs splayed out in front of him. His head hung back, throat exposed, soft snores resonating from his open mouth. </p><p>Warmth spread outward from the center of her chest as she remembered something else. He’d been there the whole time. Even when she felt the worst, that she would choke on the air she gasped into her lungs, he was there, distant but tethering her to the ground. </p><p>“Mulder?”</p><p>He awoke instantly, nearly falling as the chair tipped back. “Dana?”</p><p>Rising up on an elbow, she smiled and dipped her head. “You stayed.”</p><p>“Didn’t feel right to leave you after...” he paused. “How are you?”</p><p>“I’m fine,” she said. “I don’t know what happened. I’ve… never had that happen to me before.”</p><p>He leaned towards her, elbows on his knees. </p><p>“I might have some idea.” He sagged forwards in the chair, his head hung low, shoulders slumped. “My mother used to have… attacks like you had. And I saw it in some of the girls, when I brought them here.”</p><p>Her heart thumped. “It will happen again?”</p><p>“I don’t know,” he said, shaking his head. “With my mother it was different. With the girls, I think it was that they could finally live, they’d escaped their hells, they didn’t have to just focus on living day to day. Perhaps it is more like that for you?”</p><p>She sighed. The idea of having another one of those attacks terrified her, but she could not add one more worry to the shadows of uncertainty that surrounded her future. So, she locked the idea away, in the place where so much now resided.</p><p>Mulder stood up and took the chair he’d been sitting on back to her table. When he made for the door, placing his hat over his head, she called for him.</p><p>“Don’t leave.”</p><p>He turned, removing his hand from the lock.</p><p>“Can you get me some water?” she asked. “And sit beside me?”</p><p>He paused. It wasn’t too long ago that he’d been in her bedroom, late at night, telling her stories. Back then, what seemed forever ago, he hadn’t been shy or awkward, as she sensed he was now. They weren’t on the cusp of making love, back then. At least she hoped they were on the edge of it. She raised the quilt to her chin, hoping he’d see it as a compromise. </p><p>“Please,” she said. It was up to him to decide when things would move forward, with his rules and self-doubt. Tonight, though, she just wanted him close, to feel his warmth next to her, and to talk. “I want to tell you some things. About why I was afraid. And… I don’t want you to leave.”</p><p>Moving to her vanity, he got her a glass of water and brought it to her. He sat on the very edge of the bed, looking anywhere except at her face, her bare shoulders. </p><p>“Dana, I… I did not look,” he said. “Last night I mean. In, uh... in case you weren’t sure.”</p><p>She placed her hand on his, grasping his fingers and squeezing. “I know.”</p><p>He looked at her then, and he was close enough that she could see the heat in his eyes. “But I wanted to.”</p><p>She smiled, grasping his arm and pulling him near. “Closer.”</p><p>Kicking off his boots, he obliged, sitting atop the bedclothes next to her. She leaned against him, laying her arm across his chest. Sighing contentedly, she closed her eyes and breathed in his scent.</p><p>He was tense beside her, unmoving.</p><p>“Dana--”</p><p>“I am getting to it,” she interrupted. “I am just getting comfortable.”</p><p>He laughed, his chest rumbling against her cheek. Maneuvering his hand around her back, he started combing his fingers through her hair, gently untangling the knots that had formed over night. She hummed at his touch and nearly fell asleep again.</p><p>“Dana,” he said, tapping her shoulder. His hands were warm, he was warm. She snuggled closer. </p><p>“Hmm… yeah,” she said, her voice muffled as she pressed her mouth into his side.</p><p>“As much as I don’t mind being your pillow, you were going to tell me a story,” he said. </p><p>“Mmm, okay.” She smiled, sitting up slightly so she could clear her head. “The first time I’d met my… intended fiancé… it was meant to scare me. He’d just murdered someone, as I sat in the next room, hearing the screams, seeing the blood coating his arms as he wiped them off.” </p><p>“Jesus.” Mulder rubbed his hand over her arm as she travelled back to her final days in New York. She recalled, with perfect clarity, the strange contrast between his violent brutality and his projected civility and wealth - the sharp knife laid on the large expensive desk, blood stains and brocaded curtains, red and gold.</p><p>“He’s a very powerful man, used to getting what he wants. I left immediately, carrying only what I could manage,” she said. “And you know how my travel here went.”</p><p>He kissed the top of her head and wrapped his other arm around her.</p><p>“This notice. It is not the first. I thought I’d travelled far enough… but I fear that nowhere would escape his reach.”</p><p>“Why is he so persistent?”</p><p>“His pride, the insult I gave him by not lying down and accepting my fate. And my brothers, I am sure. They wish to be in his good graces, and offered to look for me, to escape his wrath themselves,” she said. Her heart beat steadily, her breathing even. Was it the man enfolding her in his arms, or the release from her attack that afforded her the calm she now felt?</p><p>Leaning up to look at him, she pressed her hand to the middle of his chest. “I do not fear for myself. Only for those that I have unwittingly endangered just because of their generosity. You, Monica, the people here. Even the doc doesn’t deserve his fate, if he somehow makes the connection, and tries to do the right thing by letting my family know where I am.”</p><p>She closed her eyes and laid back down on him. His arms surrounded her as she spoke.</p><p>“You told me just the other day that my name would be written on every page of your story until the last,” she said, her throat suddenly thick with emotion at the memory of his earnest face when he’d said those words to her.</p><p>“I meant it.”</p><p>“I know you did,” she said, grasping his hand and kissing his palm. “But as for myself, it is not so easy. I feel stuck, unable to turn the page and live the rest of my life. It is so easy for me to imagine that everything will go wrong, that our futures will be torn from us.”</p><p>“Dana,” he sighed, smoothing down her hair.</p><p>“I don’t want to believe it. I try not to. But everything I have seen has shown me otherwise. This place has been my refuge, my last hope. And now it is gone,” she said, feeling the pressure of tears behind her eyes. She bit her lip, willed the tears away, and continued. “I am sorry for bringing this upon you.”</p><p>Mulder grasped her face, making her look at him. He was anguished, but determined.</p><p>“Don’t you ever apologize for that,” he said, clenching his jaw. “Even if the world ended tomorrow it would be worth it.”</p><p>“You have always been one for drama,” she teased, but deep down she knew it to be the truth.</p><p>“It won’t end, though. There must be something we can do.” His eyes flashed with resolve as his mind worked through all of the possibilities. She knew if there was something she hadn’t thought of, he would think of it. Of all the ways they seemed to not fit together, she saw more and more that it was the opposite. Her practicality to his eccentricity. Her reality to his dreams. He brought her forward, and she brought him to the ground.</p><p>The moment he thought of something a grin spreading across his face. “Marry me.”</p><p>She stared at him, thinking she hadn’t heard him clearly. </p><p>“Not just because he can’t have you if you’re married, but because I want to,” he said, speaking quickly. “Not that you have to marry me, if you don’t want to. Or--”</p><p>“Mulder,” she interrupted, placing a finger on his lips, and struggling to hide her dismay at his idea. She felt chains wrapping around her, constricting her, and she had to force herself to lean her forehead against him, to breathe deeply, and calm herself. She didn’t know until now, but loving him was not enough. Knowing he was different than all those other men was not enough. She knew he would not understand her hesitation. </p><p>“I wasn’t making sense,” he continued, his voice thick, his eyes no longer shining with excitement. He clutched onto her tightly. “Forget my question.”</p><p>“Mr. Boyle would have no issue marrying a widow. Nor would my brothers have any hesitation at making me one,” she said, choosing her words carefully. “And because of the notice, I cannot leave this place, or let anyone else know my face.”</p><p>He nodded, his mouth pressed to the top of her head. “It was a foolish idea.”</p><p>“You are trying to help," she said. "But I don’t think there is a choice, except to wait to see what happens. Tomorrow I will tell Monica; I should have told her many months ago.”</p><p>He sighed and buried his face into her neck, kissing her in that place underneath her ear that made her heart flutter. She became conscious of the thin material of her chemise, knowing that if he pulled away and looked down, there would be nothing to preserve her modesty. A fleeting thought of lying next to him, nothing between them but their skin, caused a flush to crawl across her cheeks. The remnants of her emotional release the previous night still clung to her like cobwebs, muddling her mind, so the idea vanished as quickly as it appeared. She simply clung to him, thankful for this moment, of having known him, even if their future was destined to be cut short.</p><p>“We’ll think of something, or deal with anything that comes at us,” Mulder whispered. “I can’t believe God or fate would bring us together for no reason. And, Dana?”</p><p>“Hmm?” she said, her eyelids heavy.</p><p>“You’re always my first choice to watch my back.”</p><p>“Wash?” she giggled.</p><p>“That too.”</p><p>She smiled softly, and squeezed his hand. The pounding in her head had receded slightly, but she was still exhausted. Lying snugly against him, she was lulled into a dreamless sleep by the even rise and fall of his chest, his warm solidity pressed close against her, and the gentle caress of his hand along her back.</p>
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<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Sunrise/sunset</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Nothing frustrated Mulder more than inaction. It was his biggest strength, and yet also his weakness. He would not shy away from doing what was needed, except when it came to waiting. And yet, waiting had been imposed on him in two ways. First, by the circumstances involving Dana’s brothers. He did not know if they were close, or if they had no idea where she was. He would not take the chance to investigate, to expose her, or to leave her alone for longer than an hour or two. Second, the impasse he’d placed upon himself regarding his relationship with Dana, upon furthering their intimacy. He would do what was right, it was important. But what did that look like? He didn’t know, it was only a feeling he had, deep in his gut.</p><p>His mind kept turning back to yesterday morning’s pathetic proposal. Then, to awakening next to her, the smell and feel of her body next to his as she clung to him in sleep. The way her hair shone against the backdrop of the sunrise through her window, a cloud of golden-red. When she awoke, the smile she gave him, secret and special. And the gentle kiss she’d pressed to the hand that rested on her shoulder. He would have that future: living through every sunrise with her next to him. He didn’t know why he could not let himself stay, to enjoy her entirely. To avoid her disappointed gaze when he left, over and over.</p><p>So, he brooded. Sat at the bar, chin on his fist, staring at the wall but not seeing it. He felt some solution was within his reach, just out of his grasp. The idea floated just underneath his consciousness, fuzzy and unclear. </p><p>Suddenly, a vague shape coalesced.</p><p>“Melvin!”</p><p>The barkeep sauntered over to him after pouring Walt a drink, frowning and silent.</p><p>“What was that story you told me a while back about your aunt?”</p><p>***</p><p>Early evening descended upon the Gilded Hall. The sun was well on its way to setting, the sky turning from bright blue to a more muted tone, hints of gold in the west along the ridges of the Rocky Mountains. Mulder shielded his eyes and watched from his vantage up on the roof of the hall. He paced, wiping his sweaty palms on his best trousers, checking to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything in his preparations. </p><p>After speaking with Melvin, he made quick work of his plans, invigorated by his idea. Madam had supplied him with the scarf, blue silk embroidered prettily with yellow daisies along the edges. Melvin, who was waiting inside, had washed his face and looked quite out of place in his suit, hair stuffed underneath his somewhat-cleaner black bowler hat. </p><p>The blanket he’d retrieved from Nellie, as she watched their preparations curiously. It was something she kept in her chest, a present from a former life, and she wanted Dana to have it. She handed it over, shyly remarking “Make sure to treat her right, Fox.”</p><p>He’d hoped this would do it. That she’d finally be treated right, as she deserved.</p><p>The tapping of the ladder summoned him from his reverie. He removed his hat, placing it on the blanket and cushions spread over the freshly swept roof. A couple chairs, an oil lamp for when the sun fell from the sky, and a covered dish with their dinner completed the picture. </p><p>The top of Dana’s hair poked out from the hole in the roof. Not meant to be commonly accessed, the open hatch, which Mulder discovered earlier in the afternoon, was the perfect final touch. The sunset, some stargazing, and something else that would finally allow him to explore the rest of his future with her.</p><p>“Some help, please!”</p><p>He rushed over and bent downwards, grabbing her arms and lifting her up onto the roof. She looked back down through the hatch and waved at Melvin. </p><p>“I think he got quite the show,” she said, quirking her eyebrow.</p><p>“I’m sure he’ll never forget it.”</p><p>She laughed and dusted off her blue gown where some dirt had clung to it in her climb. Then her eyes took in the view, her expression turning from amusement and curiosity to wonderment. It really was spectacular up here. Distant enough from the street to avoid the offensive smells and sounds. The plains rising up into mountains in the west, far enough away that the sun hadn’t yet disappeared behind them.</p><p>“What’s all this, then?” She turned to face him.</p><p>“A surprise. Something nice,” he said, guiding her to the blanket and chairs with a hand on her lower back.</p><p>“Well, all right then,” she said, her face flushing with pleasure and a smile peeking onto her lips. </p><p>They sat and ate, feeding each other bits of fruit and cheese and tearing off pieces of fresh bread. A few birds landed near them, and they shared their crumbs. He was happy to see her enjoyment, but as the backdrop of their dinner transformed into the painted hues of purple and red and orange, he felt his heart flutter, his hands start to sweat.</p><p>“Do you know why I prefer the sunset?” she asked, after their conversation went silent.</p><p>He shook his head, wiping his hands on his knees before taking the nearly-empty plate from her and placing it away from them.</p><p>“The stars,” she said. Her face tilted upwards at the sky, a few sparkling dots appearing in the canvas of deep blue above them. “My father would take me sailing, sometimes. Tell me stories about the constellations, the myths surrounding them. I feel as though he is here when I look upwards at night.” She lowered her gaze to him. “I don’t get much opportunity nowadays.”</p><p>“I know.”</p><p>She reached over and squeezed his hand, then got up from her chair and pulled him down next to her on the blanket. Sitting along her side and facing him, she leaned against the cushions on an elbow and looked skyward once more. Once he’d settled near her, his thumb brushing along her wrist, she began to speak again. </p><p>“You have heard the story of Andromeda?”</p><p>He nodded. “But I would hear it from you.”</p><p>“Let me show you, first,” she said, leaning close to him and pointing out a particularly bright set of stars. “You see those stars there, that form a square?”</p><p>He followed her finger, tearing his gaze from her face. “Yeah, I think so.”</p><p>“That’s Pegasus. Follow it there, upwards slightly…” She directed his gaze, and at first he could not see anything except a chaotic mess of white lights against an inky backdrop. But then it came together, and he could see the pattern as she spoke, the rest of the stars fading to insignificance. </p><p>“I see it!” he exclaimed.</p><p>She smiled, and continued, telling him of the story of how an innocent daughter was abandoned by her family, chained to a rock and left for a beast, until a stranger came along and changed her fate. As she spoke, a wistful expression on her face, he could not help but make the comparison. He wouldn’t claim to have saved her, not yet at least, but he would certainly do whatever he could against the monster that was coming.</p><p>He no longer looked skyward. Her expression softened as she told the story, eyes shining as she not only remembered the tale, but the memory of the person who told it to her. He wanted to give her that, again, give her something from which she could look back and think only of warmth, instead of regret. </p><p>Trailing his hand along her arm, folded between them, he grasped her hand.</p><p>“You’re not looking at the stars,” she said, peering at him out of the corner of her eyes.</p><p>“I am looking at what is most important,” he said, making her blush. “And I am listening.”</p><p>She touched his face, her thumb dragging along his bottom lip, eyes turned serious. “I wish you could have met him.”</p><p>“Your father.”</p><p>“He would have liked you.”</p><p>“A military man liking someone with outlandish ideas and designs for his daughter? I am doubtful.”</p><p>She laughed. “He would have seen you, as I do.”</p><p>“And what do you see?”</p><p>“A good man,” she said, leaning forwards and kissing him softly on his lips. She was very convincing.</p><p>She moved closer, leaning her head on his shoulder and continuing her search of the night sky, and within her own mind for happier times, he thought. His heart sped up, not only due to her proximity but of the question he still needed to ask her. </p><p>“Would I be Medusa, in that story, or perhaps the flying horse?” he joked.</p><p>She smiled widely at him, laughing freely. He slipped out from beside her and lit the oil lamp, the moon and stars their only illumination; they were draped in shadows and he wanted to see her. When he returned to her side, she grasped his hand within hers, pulling it to her mouth and kissing his palm. </p><p>“This… whole thing is lovely. Thank you.”</p><p>He cleared his throat, suddenly very warm despite the chill of the night air. He twisted his collar, loosening it slightly and fidgeting next to her.</p><p>“What has gotten you so nervous, Mulder? You do know that these stories are only myths, right? Or do you also believe in sea monsters?” she teased.</p><p>He bowed his head. “I admit, I, uh, have an ulterior motive to all of this…” he said, waving his hands at the setting he’d created for them.</p><p>“Well, if it’s to get into this dress, you already know where I stand, so it must be something else,” she said playfully, her head tilting at him. “Out with it.”</p><p>“So, I’ve been thinking about our situation...” he started. </p><p>“‘Situation’?” she said, raising an eyebrow at him.</p><p>He flushed, laughed nervously. “I have another story to tell, and you can thank Melvin for it, although perhaps he’d already been paid with a good view.”</p><p>Dana smiled and nodded, patting his hand.</p><p>“He’s part Irish, like yourself, also part Scot. A mix of many things I suppose. Cherokee, too, he claims, though he lacks the height for me to believe that,” he said. He clasped her hand within his, squeezing it. “His aunt Katie told him the story about how she met her husband. There’s a tradition, over there, where they choose their mates through a wall, only having seen the woman’s hand. They are bonded then, for a year and a day…”</p><p>He stared at their hands, having no doubt he would know hers. </p><p>“It started a long time ago, when a priest was not available.”</p><p>When he looked back at her, her head was bowed as she waited, quiet and still.</p><p>“Once chosen, they would fasten a scarf around their hands, and they would live together as if married, for the year and a day, or until a child came, or a priest came by.”</p><p>He brought the scarf the Madam gave him from inside his pocket and placed it next to their hands. </p><p>“It only requires a witness, and Melvin agreed--”</p><p>“Stop,” Dana interrupted, withdrawing her hand. She stood up quickly and backed away a few steps.</p><p>“If he is too offensive, perhaps the Madam would agree…?” He stood as well, taking the scarf in one hand, reaching out to her with the other. </p><p>She shook her head, and he saw the glistening of tears in her eyes. “All of it, Mulder.”</p><p>“But--”</p><p>“The answer to your question is no, and I should have been clear before,” she said, not meeting his eyes.</p><p>Mulder’s shoulders slumped. “Of course… I shouldn’t have assumed that you wanted this, that I was… the marrying type.”</p><p>“Look at me,” she said, her voice sharp.</p><p>He did, massaging the back of his neck. This wasn’t turning out how he’d envisioned, the exact opposite, in fact. Instead of a happy Dana, kissing, and… perhaps more, she stood in front of him, upset and perhaps a little angry, for a reason he could not fathom. He waited, feeling the weight of guilt already settling on his shoulders.</p><p>“I do not need a fancy ring, or a scarf, or anything else to know how I feel about you. How you feel about me,” she started. Her eyes softened slightly, but she did not approach. “If my circumstances had been any different, if I’d ended up like one of the girls here, would I be any less worthy of your love, of your commitment?”</p><p>“Of course not,” he said. </p><p>From the look on her face, he guessed she did not believe him. “I am so tired of other people thinking they know what is best for me, or, as you say it, what I deserve.”</p><p>“Dana, I… do not mean it that way." He bowed his head, unable to look at her. Not wanting to fight, to turn this into something ugly, but the right words escaped him. He found his anger starting to build as well. <i>How could she think such a thing?</i> Then the doubt. <i>Have I really made her feel that way?</i></p><p>“Maybe so. But that is not my only reason for my refusal,” she said. “I have seen what happens, when a woman gets married. My mother, my sister, my friends at college. A wife is treated as even less of an individual. Even if she fights against it, as my sister did, it changes her."</p><p>She stepped closer, pointing her finger at his chest but not quite touching it. Her cheeks were red and her eyes blazed.</p><p>"When I marry, I will no longer be myself. I become your wife, your property, not my own person. If you cannot understand that, then we are finished speaking."</p><p>"Dana I do not want a wife, I want you." He clenched his hands into fists, twisting the delicate scarf in his grasp.</p><p>"Even if you did not mean to change me, it would happen. And I do not mean to lose myself," she said, pursing her lips, and turning away from him.</p><p>He grabbed her arm to prevent her from moving away, his anger rising. "You say I am ridiculous, that I have crazy ideas, well yours is the most absurd idea I have ever heard. Just because we are together in some official capacity does not mean that anything changes!"</p><p>Dana stared at his arm, then looked up at his face, her eyes cold and furious. She spoke harshly. "No offense, sir, but you are not a woman. You do not know what it is like--” </p><p>“Dana--”</p><p>“I am not finished. If whatever object you conjure to bind us together does not change anything then why is it so important to you? Why do you insist on it before we take things further. It means something, to you at least... and I cannot give that to you."</p><p>Wrenching her arm away from his grasp, she stalked towards the hatch in the roof and climbed down as fast as her dress would allow. She did not look back.</p><p>Mulder stood there, shocked, the delicate scarf falling from his hand onto the dusty rooftop.</p>
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<a name="section0015"><h2>15. More than words</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <b>Content warning: this chapter is rated M (Mature) for sexual situations</b>
</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As Dana fled from the rooftop, fists clenched, eyes flashing, she paid no heed to her direction or anyone she bumped into on her way to her room. All she could think of was escape. Not from Mulder, but from the ideas he brought forward. When she closed her door behind her, breathing heavily in the pitch darkness, her mind caught up. Her anger left her as abruptly as she’d run away. Her fear remained, but was overwhelmed by shame. How could she have left him there? Accused him of those things? The evening he’d planned for them had only been out of a desire to love her, to do what felt right in his heart.</p><p>Taking a few minutes to calm herself in her lightless room, she opened the door, determined to march back to him and explain herself. </p><p>He was already there, out of breath, eyes desperate. Halting as the door opened, he stared at her, unsure if he was welcome.</p><p>She stepped back into the blackness of her room, and gestured for him to follow.</p><p>They were both silent as she lit her lamps, one on her desk, the other on the table next to her bed. It was still dim, but she could see his eyes, shadowed for another reason besides the lack of light.</p><p>“I spoke harshly,” she began. Her voice was soft, and she approached him hesitantly. Afraid he might flee like she had only minutes earlier. “I’m sorry.”</p><p>“Dana, you don’t have to apologize,” he said. She shook her head but held her tongue. “I didn’t think... about what that sort of thing might mean to you.”</p><p>“You would not know, I did not share it,” she said. “The fault is mine. I lashed out at you, in fear and anger. You did not deserve it.”</p><p>She felt tears behind her eyes and pushed them away. <i>Not yet. </i></p><p>“Dana, I love you because you are you. I don’t want you to change. We can fight that together, if you really think it’s a possibility,” he said, moving near, but not yet close enough to touch. “I’m sorry for ridiculing your feelings about that. It was not fair to you.”</p><p>She nodded, crossing her arms in front of her chest.</p><p>“For me, I fear... change is inevitable, if I allow myself to marry. And I will lose everything once that happens.” She bowed her head. <i>I would lose not only myself, but the one who loves me</i>, she thought, blinking furiously. “I know it is irrational.”</p><p>“You are allowed to be human, every once in a while, Dana.” He finally came near enough to touch, and she wasn’t sure who reached for whom first, but their hands grasped onto each other, like magnets. She entwined her fingers with his, locking them together. Still, she did not look at him. She was ashamed of how she’d grouped him with others, despite knowing that he was the one man who could be counted on to understand and listen.</p><p>“If marriage, or something similar, is your condition… I cannot give that to you,” she whispered.</p><p>“I’ve been thinking,” he started. “About what has held me back.”</p><p>She nodded.</p><p>“I told you a little. About my past, how I haven’t had anyone care for me. I think… I <i><b>feel</b></i>…” He cupped her jaw with his hand, nudged her face upwards to look at him. “Deep down, I feel like my word is not good enough.”</p><p><i>Of course</i>, she thought, wishing she could make him see himself as she did.</p><p>He continued. “If there is a witness or a ring or a stupid scarf, it will somehow show you more that what I say is the truth. More than what I could ever promise on my own.”</p><p>“I don’t <i><b>need</b></i> all of that,” she said. He brushed his thumb across her cheek where a tear had escaped. “I believe you, Mulder.”</p><p>“I know.”</p><p>“<i><b>Trust</b></i> me.”</p><p>He moved his hand along her neck, gooseflesh rising in its wake. Bending his neck downwards, so she could not mistake the answer in his eyes, so clear and intense. “Okay.”</p><p>She nodded and bit her lip, her heart pounding in her ears. His fingers played with the shell of her ear, then traced the hair at the nape of her neck, making her shiver. Leaning into him, she felt the ache of loneliness, of despair, slip away into the shadows. She tilted her face upwards and pressed her lips against his, drawn to his warmth, letting her hand roam under his jacket and along the fine wool of his vest, then to the buttons in front. </p><p>She released them, one by one. First the buttons on his vest, then his shirt, and he did not stop her.</p><p>While her hands worked, his own roamed along her back, then the tops of her shoulders where only lace separated his hands from her skin. As he removed the clasp holding her hair up, it fell down her back in waves. Brushing a few strands behind her ear, his lips devoured hers, gentle and passionate.</p><p>Soon he was in only his undershirt, his suspenders hanging loosely at his sides, trousers partially unbuttoned and low on his hips. A thrill raced down her spine. She laid her forehead on his chest, breathing in his scent, clean and musky. Her hands snuck under the hem of his shirt, lifting it as she traced along the flat, muscular plane of his abdomen, around his ribcage, then upwards to grasp his shoulder blades. Leaning back long enough for him to pull it over his head, she returned to his torso, with tongue and lips.</p><p>His skin was so warm and soft. As she explored him, she discovered marks and scars that told the stories he was reluctant to share, but she’d guessed had been a part of his life for too long. Now, they had the rest of their lives to tell each other everything. She was determined that it would be years yet, decades even. As he’d told her when she’d awoken from her attack, they could deal with whatever came at them. She wanted to believe that.</p><p>Memorizing the sensitive patches causing him to gasp under her hands and mouth, she felt a flood of warmth spread from her chest, down to between her thighs. His hands still roamed safely along her back, yet what had been frustratingly tame in past evenings took on a different meaning now; it was merely a prelude to more. She had a vision of his hands along her bare back, as she writhed atop him, his adoring eyes burning her flesh with his hot gaze.</p><p>Suddenly impatient, and more than a little curious, she slid her hand downwards, inside his trousers, stroking her hand along the length of his erection. His hands moved quickly, cupping her face and kissing her deeply. But instead of pulling away, he pressed closer, grinding himself against her belly, pinning her hand between them.</p><p>He nipped at her earlobe, exhaling as he spoke, “You seem to have me at an advantage.”</p><p>She leaned back to peer at him, raising an eyebrow. “Since when do I not?”</p><p>He laughed. Stilling her wandering hands with kisses along her jaw and neck, he maneuvered them so he was back up against the side of her bed. Instead of pulling them down onto it, he turned her around, so she faced her mirror. </p><p>Leaning over and whispering to her again, he said, “I want you to see what I do, everytime I look at you.”</p><p>She smiled and nuzzled against his cheek. Though he towered behind her, bare chested and beautiful, she tore her eyes from him to look at herself, as he’d asked. Her blue dress, with its frills and ribbons, the lace at her shoulder and collar, her red hair glowing in the light of the lamps. She wasn’t too concerned with her appearance, other than appearing neat and modest. But in the heat of his gaze, her back straightened, her chin lifted, and she felt as beautiful as Andromeda herself.</p><p>His hands moved from her shoulders, down her sides, and back again.</p><p>"I can't get enough of you," he whispered, his mouth at her ear. “The way your eyes harden with doubt when I tell a story, but you listen regardless. I feel like what I say matters.”</p><p>She smiled and nodded, biting back a retort. Something within her, and in his eyes, told her to listen and take in his words without interruption.</p><p>His thumb reached up and pulled at her bottom lip. </p><p>“The way your mouth curls around words I have never heard of, nevermind know their meaning. And how excited you are to have someone to listen to you speak of such wondrous things.”</p><p>His hands moved down her waist, dipping over her skirt and back upwards again. There were layers and layers of clothing between them, yet her center throbbed at the barest whisper of his touch. </p><p>“When I can make you smile wide enough, or laugh, and you get the cutest little dimple in your right cheek,” he said. She couldn’t help but smile as he’d described, and he leaned over to kiss her at the corner of her mouth. “Just like that.”</p><p>With every word, a jolt of energy shot through her body. He barely touched her, the wisps of his hair tickling her cheek as he whispered in her ear, first one then the other. His hands performed a gentle dance along her sides, over her arms, then settled on her shoulders. It was too much, too much yet not enough. She leaned into him, desperate for more.</p><p>“That little curl of hair at your temple, that you can never seem to tame.” </p><p>He kissed her there, then drew his hands through the length of her hair. Her scalp tingled, and his touch sent vibrations coursing down her entire body. <i>What he could already do with just words and the lightest of touches? What would he be able to do to me when he wasn’t so delicate?</i> She shivered at the thought.</p><p>“The way your hands surround mine, giving me comfort and strength, despite your own pain.” He raised her hands to his mouth, kissing her palm. “I would know what the rest of your body will tell me.”</p><p>“Please, Mulder,” she said. She was warm and out of breath. His eyes pinned her in place, but he also did not move. Breaking out of her trance, she reached for the clasps of her dress and began undoing them as he watched, his eyes locked with hers as he laid a trail of kisses along her neck.</p><p>Before long, most of her clothing was discarded in a heap on the floor beside them, and she stood in front of him in only her chemise and drawers. They were lacy and mostly sheer, so she might as well be naked. Squeezing her eyes shut, she held her breath, waiting for him to say something, to react. But he was still and silent behind her.</p><p>“Open your eyes,” he said, his voice low and raspy.</p><p>She did so, seeing her image in front of her, and it was as she remembered. The outline of her body almost ethereal beneath her gauzy underclothes, only the shadows of her nipples and the thatch of hair between her legs prominently visible. Mulder’s eyes darkened as he watched her, and she felt flushed, seeing the faint pink tint rising up into her cheeks in the mirror, her chest rising and falling more quickly.</p><p>“You are so beautiful.”</p><p>It was easy to believe him, the soft light in her room giving everything a dreamy quality. Who was this woman in the mirror? Her hair curling down her back in waves of crimson, her lips swollen from their kisses, wearing a diaphanous guise that barely concealed her body underneath. A gold chain with a small cross that she normally kept hidden under her clothes, shone in the lamplight. And behind her, the width of his tanned shoulders framed her, his handsome face above, and the bare, strong arms that held her as if she might break. </p><p>He sat down on her bed, and with his hands on her hips, guided her so she faced him. Looking up at her, he teased the tips of his thumbs underneath the hem of her chemise, his hands so large they spanned the entirety of her waist. A moment of doubt crossed his face.</p><p>“Dana,” he said.</p><p>“Yeah,” she said, her voice breathy and low. </p><p>“If you change your mind, or if I do anything unpleasant I need you to let me know,” he said, looking into her eyes, tracing his fingers at the small of her back.</p><p>“I will.” She cupped his face with her hands. “I trust you.” </p><p>He grinned and pulled her close, pressing his face into her stomach. It was comforting, at first, almost innocent if not for their near nudity. Tousling the soft strands of his hair, she placed a kiss against his temple. He sighed, his breath warming her belly. </p><p>Before long though, something shifted. He began kissing her, through her chemise, up the centre of her chest, his hands working at the buttons, stroking the skin beneath. When her shirt hung open, he kissed the skin between her breasts, lingering there while he pushed it from her shoulders, then untied the knot holding up her drawers. Both garments fluttered to the floor, and he leaned backwards to look at her again.</p><p>“Christ,” he swore.</p><p>“Mulder,” she admonished playfully.</p><p>He looked up at her with a sheepish smile. “I can’t help it. You…” His hands traced the side of her breasts, meandered downwards to the curve of her hips, then behind her to grasp her buttocks. He shook his head. “I feel as if in a dream.”</p><p>“This is not a dream. This is real.” She crushed her lips against his, as he massaged her lower back, pulling her so close to his warmth she thought she would ignite. The hard length of his erection pressed insistently against her leg, and she wiggled slightly, earning a long moan against her mouth.</p><p>“Real, like ghasts,” he said, gasping as he broke their kiss. She giggled.</p><p>Finally, his mouth descended on one of her breasts, lavishing first one then the other with attention. Her head fell backwards and she thrust her chest towards him, grabbing onto the firm muscles of his shoulders to keep from falling. It was… so much better than she’d imagined. And she’d imagined this quite a bit after their evenings together. That beautiful mouth and talented tongue. Her own hands did not come close to the ecstasy that he awoke within her at his touch. </p><p>“Ohhh…” she moaned. “More.”</p><p>One of the hands holding her near him glided upwards, touching her and tasting her simultaneously. It was overwhelming, and she felt as if she’d been transported elsewhere, that the only thing that existed was the two of them. When she opened her eyes, the sight of him kissing her body caused her knees to weaken, and she fell atop him, his hands too busy to support her weight.</p><p>He grasped her waist, lifting her as though she weighed nothing, and placed her in the middle of her bed, crawling up beside her and nuzzling her neck. Her chest heaved, and she placed a sloppy kiss to his forehead.</p><p>“You are divine,” he said, kissing her temple.</p><p>Hovering above her, he kissed the tip of her nose, her chin, and moved downwards again. Avoiding her breasts this time, his tongue drew a line over her breastbone, down to her navel, and he inhaled deeply, the breath on his exhale tickling the skin of her abdomen. His hand hesitated at her hip, then moved towards the hair at the apex of her legs. She was squeezing them together, needing to release some tension. Drawing his hand down her legs, he eased them open, stroking the soft skin on her inner thighs and then moving upwards.</p><p>Slowly, much like his exploration of her breasts, he circled, drawing out her pleasure. Backing off when he felt her near the edge. She covered her mouth with her forearm to muffle her cries, her other hand grasping his hair, alternately pulling and soothing it. When he finally touched her clitoris, she felt as tightly wound as a rope, near to breaking. Her back arched off the bed, and she squeezed her eyes shut, feeling the pressure of tears behind her eyes.</p><p>“Please,” she begged. She was so close. So close. The edge, to oblivion, to the universe. It was wonderfully unbearable.</p><p>He was above her, then, his face so close to her own. Pulling her arm away from her face, he captured her mouth with his own, swallowing her moans with his kiss. He inserted a finger inside of her, curling it upwards, and that pushed her over. She saw stars, and an explosion of magnificent color. Transported away from this place, to one where she was free, finally, and forever.</p><p>She came back to her bed, blinking blearily, hands shaking. Mulder hovered over her, his damp hand drawing circles around her hip, his other swiping away the sweat-slicked hair that had become stuck to her forehead. In his eyes, she saw such wonder and love. She smiled broadly at him, and he smiled back, kissing her cheek where he’d noted her dimple only a few minutes earlier. A few minutes? She felt as if everything had changed.</p><p>“You were right, sweetheart,” he said, caressing her hair.</p><p>“Mmm?” she asked.</p><p>“It was stupid to wait,” he said. “You are magnificent.”</p><p>Disguising her sudden shyness, she buried her head in his neck, breathing him in and kissing him gently. </p><p>He adjusted himself next to her, attempting to hide his erection. <i>To give me time to change my mind</i>, she thought. She did not need any more time, and she certainly would not change her mind. Sneaking her hand down between them, she grasped him through his drawers, sliding her fingers along his length. </p><p>“Let's do something about this, shall we?” she said, whispering in his ear.</p><p>He shivered, and cradling his hand around her neck, pulled her towards him in another kiss. Biting at his lips, she felt bold, playful. Wanting to give him the same pleasure he’d just given her. She was a bit intimidated by his size, by the unfamiliarity of intercourse, of having a man inside of her. But she trusted him, implicitly, and that overcame any unease she may have felt.</p><p>With her help, his drawers joined the rest of their clothing on the floor. His erection finally freed, she bit her lip and wrapped her hand around his girth, and stroked her hand upwards to the tip. When she peeked up at him through the veil of her lashes, his eyes were dark and intense, his hands balled into fists.</p><p>“Feel good?” she asked.</p><p>“Oh, yeah,” he said, his deep voice somehow sinking an octave. Her heart danced in her chest. It wasn’t just the physical attraction, though she felt her mouth water when she raked her eyes along his body. He was such a caring man, with intellect and passion. He was her one in a million. She would be his, too.</p><p>Releasing him, she reached behind her, turning over the bedclothes. The cool sheets soothed her heated flesh. Holding out her hand to him, he took it, and joined her, enfolding around her like a warm blanket. He caressed her skin, drew unidentifiable patterns along her breasts, sweeping his tongue along her clavicle. </p><p>“I’m ready, Mulder.”</p><p>He gazed into her eyes and nodded. Kissing her, he slipped a hand down between her legs, touching her like he’d already learned she liked. Once she was gasping and writhing beneath him, he positioned himself above her, and slowly slid inside.</p><p>He was large, she was not. It was almost too much, even with him bringing her near to the edge of her release, her slick walls straining and adjusting to the unfamiliar sensation. She loved it though. The momentary pain meant she was alive, and they were together. </p><p>Finally, he was completely within her. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her hands clamped onto his shoulders, shallow pants coming from her open mouth.</p><p>“Dana,” he said, tracing her brow with his finger. She opened her eyes. “You okay?” </p><p>“Yeah,” she breathed, smiling widely. Oh God, this was really him. Her hand slid down his back, his muscles tense and straining with the effort of holding himself back, and slapped his buttock lightly. “Get moving.”</p><p>He grinned at her, kissing her briefly. “Yes, ma’am.”</p><p>He started to move, achingly slowly at first, but then faster at her encouragement. She cradled him, kissing his skin wherever she could reach, whispering endearments into his ear. Knowing the little she did about physical intimacy - anatomy books and womens’ manuals - she expected that this act would mostly be about him. Mulder, it seemed, had not read the same things. Gazing into her eyes, he kindled her desire once more with greedy mouth and urgent hands, needing her to be with him in all things, especially this.</p><p>He adjusted himself slightly, the pressure lessening as he struck a spot within her that caused the fire within her to rise and expand, warming the tips of her fingers and the soles of her feet. Panting between sloppy kisses, his thrusting became more erratic as he neared the edge of his control. Surrounding her completely, his arms braced around her torso, his damp hair framing her face as he moved. Never had she felt so safe, so cared for. </p><p>Tears escaped the corners of her eyes and he kissed them away, pressing his forehead against hers and pausing. Looking at her, his thumb traced a path along her lips.</p><p>“You… and me,” he panted. “I think… we could do anything.”</p><p>She wrapped her legs around him, pulling him deeper.  </p><p>“Love... you,” she managed to say, then bit her lip to stifle a sob. It felt so good to be connected, to feel like they could never be separated. </p><p>“Oh, God…” he gasped. “Love you, too.”</p><p>Rocking against her a few more times, he muffled his cry against her neck at his release, his warmth spilling inside of her. The weight of him atop her, his teeth against her skin, pulled her over after him, floating gently this time, as if on a bed of clouds. </p><p>Groaning, Mulder moved to his side as he withdrew from her, and she held onto him and pressed her lips to his shoulder. Her heart thumped solidly in her chest, slowing as they rested. Looking up at him, his face was completely relaxed, eyes closed and a faint smile gracing his mouth. She ran her hands over his back, not wanting this moment of closeness with him to end. </p><p>He opened his eyes, and she saw peace within their depths.</p><p>“It’s you,” he said, reaching out and brushing a stray strand of hair away from her face. He kept his hand against her cheek, and she leaned into him.</p><p>“Hello,” she said, giggling.</p><p>Leaning forward, he kissed her gently. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling the quilt around them, cocooning her against the chill in the air. Laying against his chest, she sighed contentedly. </p><p>They slept. The night was finally theirs.</p>
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<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Dawn</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <b>Content warning: this chapter is rated M (Mature) for sexual situations</b>
</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He awoke from a good sleep for the first time in a long while. The golden light announcing the dawn filtered through Dana’s window, bathing them in a warm glow. He watched, afraid to move lest he wake her: her naked body pressed to his, her arm thrown across his chest, and the crimson waves of her hair spread across the pillows. </p><p>Faint snores reverberated from her open mouth, and he smiled when he heard her voice in his head denouncing his claims that she did such a thing. He drew his hand through her hair, and  leaned down, letting his lips linger on her forehead. She moved slightly, wiggling closer and sighing, but she did not wake.</p><p>After they’d fallen asleep last night, sated and happy and wrapped together as close as they could get, Mulder thought the next thing he would see would be morning. Instead, he recalled how he’d been stirred in the deepest dark of night, her hands and mouth making their way down his body, touching his member, her hair brushing lightly along his abdomen.</p><p>He froze at her unexpected touch, and she crept back up to him. She was uncertain, her face mere inches from his in the darkness, asking if it was okay that she wanted to taste him. Answering her with a strangled “yes!” she gave him an impish smile, then moved back downwards. She loved him with her mouth and her hands, and then they’d made love once more. Making up for not being able to see her, he crushed his mouth against hers, clutching at her body while she quivered and unfolded beneath him. </p><p>He would have thought it a dream, except he noted the red welt he’d left on her neck, where he’d marked her in his frenzy. His thumb ran across it, and he worried. <i>Had I been too rough?</i></p><p>“Stop thinking too much,” Dana mumbled, kissing his chest as she spoke.</p><p>“Good morning.”</p><p>She tilted up to face him, kissing him lightly on the lips, her eyes still closed. “Go back to sleep, it is too early.”</p><p>He nuzzled the top of her head and drew his hand down her body under the quilt, cradling her hip. “Sun’s up.”</p><p>“No fair,” she said, lifting her leg in encouragement.</p><p>He continued his movements, running his hand across her waist and to the side of her breasts. “I wanted to wake you like you’d awoken me last night, but was afraid you’d kick me and break my nose.”</p><p>She giggled softly. “Smart decision.”</p><p>Sliding out from under her and laying on his side, he threaded his hand through the hair at her temple, taming the strands that covered her face. Her eyes opened, and she returned his gaze, curious and content. </p><p>“Any regrets in the light of day?” he asked, heart thumping. <i>Please say no</i>, he thought. Despite everything, a small part of him still wondered if she’d come to her senses and realize what a mistake she’d made by choosing him.</p><p>Allaying his fears, she smiled broadly, grabbing his face and kissing him firmly, decisively. She rubbed her nose against his and leaned back to look into his eyes.  “Not for one second. You?”</p><p>“God, no.”</p><p>She laughed and kissed him again, her tongue peeking out to taste his bottom lip. </p><p>Caressing her breast, his fingers teased her hardened nipple, pinching lightly while he devoured her moans. When she wrapped her leg around his hip and grinded against him, he felt the dampness between her legs. It made him dizzy to think that she might be just as eager for their coupling as he was. </p><p>Pulling away and looking at her, he wished there was some way for him to watch her and kiss her at the same time. Her eyes were closed, lips pursed and slightly swollen. Her hand grazed his ribcage, caressed his pectorals, and scratched through his chest hair. She peeked one eye open at his pause and pouted.</p><p>“Why’d you stop?”</p><p>“Lay back.”</p><p>She hesitated, but bit her lip and laid back against the pillows. She rested one of her arms above her head, while her other hand traced circles along his shoulder. Staring at him with her eyebrow raised, her perfect body beckoning him to touch her, he felt as if, and not for the first time, that she held all of the cards. He would not have it any other way.</p><p>Leaning down, he kissed one of her pert nipples, her hand running through his hair. He loved it when she did that, her nails scratching at his scalp sending little lightning bolts down his spine. His tongue circled her breast, while his hand caressed her side and moved downwards, spreading over her hip to encase it completely in his hand. She loomed so large in his mind, in his life, it always shocked him when he was confronted by how small she was. </p><p>He peered up at her, her lashes covering her deep blue irises and her teeth captured by her lower lip. So beautiful.</p><p>His tongue travelled lower, dipping into her navel before diverting to the top of her thigh. He kissed a trail down one leg, then switched to the other, gently pushing her thighs open so she was spread in front of him.</p><p>When he glanced up at her face, she was breathing rapidly, her breasts rising and falling enticingly, a flush spreading from her chest up to redden her cheeks. He thought he saw a shadow of uncertainty cross her face, so he stopped, and rested his chin on her hip.</p><p>“Okay?”</p><p>She smiled and nodded, “Please.”</p><p>So he dipped his head down and tasted her, running his tongue along her folds. He gripped her buttocks with one hand, and rested his other arm along her thigh, using his fingers as well as his mouth. </p><p>“Ohhh… God!” Dana moaned. She was much louder in the quiet morning of the brothel, no crowds or music to cover their passionate cries.</p><p>“You will wake everyone if you keep that up.”</p><p>“I do not care... just keep... doing that,” she panted.</p><p>He obliged, working his way around her sensitive flesh, pulling away to lay gentle kisses when he sensed her nearing her climax. It was the morning, and they had all the time in the world; he would make this last as long as he could. </p><p>Breaking his focus to look at her again, her arm covered her face, her teeth clamped onto it to keep from crying out too loudly. Her other hand touched her breasts, pinching and twisting one of her nipples. He pressed up against the edge of the bed, in an attempt to relieve the aching throb of his erection, needing to look away lest their lovemaking come to an end much sooner than he’d like.</p><p>With mouth and tongue and fingers, and the occasional graze of his teeth along her center, it was not long before she contracted around him, her legs attempting to clamp shut and crush his head. He held onto her as she writhed, watching her and touching her deftly to prolong her pleasure. God, she was magnificent. </p><p>He crawled back up to her when she lay still, kissing her belly and breasts and neck along the way. Her blue eyes shone at him when he looked at her.</p><p>“You should do that again sometime,” she said, in between heavy breaths.</p><p>“Good?”</p><p>She nodded, and blushed. “Do you think anyone really heard me?” </p><p>He laughed as he kissed her. She dragged the tips of her nails across his back, her hands growing bolder as their kiss deepened, reaching down to stroke his erection. Positioning herself underneath him, she guided him to her entrance, and he slid inside of her.</p><p>They both groaned, loudly, then shushed each other, giggling like children.</p><p>He began moving, and her hands wandered along his chest, playing with his nipples while she laid sweet kisses along his clavicle. It was heavenly, being with her like this. Her tight walls enveloping him, her small whimpers and sighs when he did something right, her deft fingers and mouth showing him she loved him. Surely, this meant something more, something truly divine and right. This was too good to be only a momentary respite from the horrors of their lives.</p><p>His mind was hazy with lust, but he had just enough sense to angle his hips in the way that made her gasp, that caused one of her legs to wrap around his hip and take him deeper. </p><p>“More,” she keened, hands scrambling at his sweaty back, digging her nails into his shoulder blades.</p><p>He thrust harder, letting himself lose a bit of control, resting his forehead atop hers and kissing her nose. He could not do much more than hold himself up and kiss her sloppily; thankfully, she seemed to sense it, and worked her hand down between them to touch herself, to push herself off the edge once more. When her walls trembled around him, and she bit his shoulder to muffle her cries, an almost unbearable ache settled along his spine, the cusp of his climax beckoning him, just out of his reach.</p><p>Keeping his eyes open, he watched her face twist in pleasure. She was his world, the only thing that existed. Bright light shone at the edges of his vision, warmth spreading from his groin to his belly then bursting to his fingertips and toes. He squeezed his eyes shut in the midst of his blinding release, and behind his lids he saw the flame of her hair, the expanse of her porcelain skin, and above all, the clear blue of her eyes. He shouted her name, his mouth against her temple.</p><p>Falling face-down to her side, he draped his arm around her and caught his breath. She cuddled against him, nuzzling her face to his shoulder, grazing her lips along his sweaty skin. He shivered under her touch, wrapping his arm even tighter around her and pulling her close. Suddenly, she pulled away, tracing her fingers over a few tender spots on his back. </p><p>“I’ve hurt you,” she said. </p><p>He turned his head, opening a single eye to peer at her. She was leaning up on an elbow, biting her bottom lip, her eyes downcast.</p><p>“Hmm?” He smiled dreamily, the fog that settled over his mind not yet cleared away.</p><p>She traced along a few of the scratches, not quite touching him. Her face reddened as she looked, and he thought he saw the shine of tears beginning to form.</p><p>“I got carried away.” She met his eyes. “I’m sorry, Mulder.”</p><p>“Don’t be,” he murmured. </p><p>She looked at him doubtfully, touching him as though he would break into pieces. He felt his heart would burst if he thought too much about the care she showed him, her obvious affection and love. It was almost too much, yet exactly what he needed. <i>Why had I waited?</i></p><p>He shook his head to clear his mind and moved atop her, pressing her back into the pillows and cupping her face with his hands. “I love that you marked me.”</p><p>Her eyebrow rose to the middle of her forehead as she laid beneath him, but she stayed silent.</p><p>“Dana, this is my proof,” he said, gesturing to his back. “That you may take just about as much enjoyment from this as I do. That you may love me.”</p><p>Sighing heavily and shaking her head, she caressed the side of his face. Her eyes sparkled at him. “You and your incessant need for physical evidence.”</p><p>“It’s pretty frustrating, isn’t it.”</p><p>She laughed, then pulled him down into a kiss. Her lips grazed over his, barely a touch, then she grasped his bottom lip with her teeth and tugged. Laying back down with a wider smile, she brushed her hands against his sides, back and forth, gentle and soothing. He slid his hand down the side of her neck, to the mark he’d noted earlier, his gaze travelling southward to a few other scratches on her chest.</p><p>“I think I’ve marked you as well,” he said, laying his hand on the reddish abrasions that stood out starkly against her soft, milky skin.</p><p>She grinned, averting her eyes, then looked up at him through her lashes. “I think I like it when you are… enthusiastic. When you are excited because of me.”</p><p>“We are well-matched then,” he said, nuzzling her neck, and nipping slightly. She hummed her agreement, shivering as he whispered in her ear. “How are you so perfect, Dana Scully?”</p><p>“Mulder...” she said, expressing her disagreement.</p><p>“For me you are,” he said. Her head tilted in a question. “I think for so long I have felt I do not deserve to be taken care of, to be needed, or wanted. But as stubborn as you are, you pushed your way past all of that. I am glad.”</p><p>She smiled brightly and kissed his cheek. “I do love you.”</p><p>“Me too,” he said. “I love you very much, sweetheart.”</p><p>He leaned down and kissed her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and pulling her on top of him. She laid down on him and sighed, inserting herself in the niche between his shoulder and chest. They laid together, in that in-between moment of the morning where thoughts wandered and hands draped lazily, before the obligation to start the day set in.</p><p>He felt the moment her mind turned from relaxation to something serious. Her hand stilled, her breath caught, and he knew that if he looked, there would be a little crease between her brows. </p><p>She sat up suddenly, letting the quilt fall to her waist.</p><p>“You should move your things in here. It only makes sense,” she said, pressing a finger to his shoulder, heedless of her nudity. She was resolute, her eyes grey-blue and unyielding. Despite the distraction of her bare chest, he saw the practical, no-nonsense woman he’d fallen in love with appear in front of him.</p><p>He forgot what she’d said, so he just nodded.</p><p>“You will spend all of your time here. What is the point of keeping your clothes at the other hotel, when you have to waste time going back and forth to change.” She shook her head. “Now that we are together, fully, it will not do.”</p><p>He laughed, sitting up next to her.  </p><p>Her brows knitted together and she frowned. “What is so funny?”</p><p>“You,” he said, putting his arm around her waist, caressing her lower back. He would never tire of touching her. “Do you want me to move my things here?”</p><p>Her brows knit together and she frowned. “That is what I just said.”</p><p>“But do you want it, regardless of the reasons?”</p><p>Her eyes softened and she laid her palm against his heart. “Yes.”</p><p>“Then I will do it, there is no need for justifications.” </p><p>She grinned at him. “You are not this easy to convince most of the time, I am just doing what I am used to.”</p><p>“Maybe if you argued when you are undressed, I would be more receptive.”</p><p>“Mulder!”</p><p>He shrugged. “You are very distracting when you are naked.”</p><p>“I would not win an argument except by the merits of it. That would be unfair,” she said, crossing her arms underneath her breasts and raising her eyebrows. His eyes widened and a flame, recently doused, kindled deep in his belly. If only the rest of his body would cooperate. </p><p>He laughed softly, pulling her against him. “Sit here with me a moment, then I will fetch my things, as well as breakfast for us both.”</p><p>She sighed and leaned into him, pressing a kiss underneath his jaw. “And a shave, you are prickly.”</p><p>“Yes, ma’am.”</p><p>Wrapping her arm around his abdomen, she relaxed, her breaths puffing against his chest. He wanted to stay here forever, but at the same time, he wanted to spring out of bed and make all sorts of plans, her at his side. He, too, had been stagnant, living his life ten years in the past, but now he looked forward instead of back.</p>
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<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Instinct</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was mid-morning, a time when most people were out of bed and in the middle of their first tasks of the day. Dana, however, was straddling Mulder’s lap, her breasts pressed against his chest as his hands ran up and down her back. Panting against his neck, she soothed the place she’d left a bite mark, lazily brushing her lips against him and tasting his sweat-slicked skin. His breath tickled her ear. Loosening her hands from the white-knuckle grip she’d had on her headboard, she wrapped her arms around his shoulder blades and gripped him with her thighs. She did not want him to move.</p><p>It had been the happiest week of her life, most of it spent in bed. Had she worn anything, apart from her dressing gown, that first day they spent together? The day after, they’d returned to their usual duties, distracted and waiting for the moment they could be alone together once again. Dana was sure everyone knew, from her foolish smile, to the sounds coming from their room at all hours of the day, but she could not find it in herself to care. How could something so wonderful be wicked? In any respect, making love with Mulder would be the least of her sins, and she’d gladly pay whatever the price.</p><p>And, oh, Mulder was wonderful. Attentive and loving, funny and serious. The openness and compassion in his eyes drove away all of her insecurities. Above all, he seemed to want to be held, clutching on to her after their lovemaking, assuring himself that she would not leave. She did as much as she could to dissuade him of that, telling him and showing him she loved him, and she hoped he would finally know it. </p><p>A knock interrupted her reverie.</p><p>“Madam needs to speak with Mulder,” Walt said through the door. “Could you, uh, give him the message, Dana.”</p><p>Dana giggled. Walt seemed to be the only one in denial about their relationship. “I will!” she answered. Lifting her head off Mulder’s chest, she cupped her hands around his face and kissed him on the tip of his prominent nose. “Madam needs to see you.”</p><p>“You are incorrigible,” he laughed.</p><p>“Mmm, I know,” she said. He groaned as she moved off of him, laying his head back against the mountain of pillows behind him and closing his eyes.</p><p>She watched him as she washed herself and began to get dressed, thinking she might as well get started with her own tasks if Mulder needed to leave. It was hard to feel badly being such a layabout when such a handsome man occupied her bed. Especially when said handsome man eyed her so appreciatively as she donned her lacy undergarments.</p><p>“Wear those to bed next time.”</p><p>“You will ruin them.”</p><p>“I will buy you more,” he said, finally moving from his spot on the bed and giving her buttocks a light pat as he passed her. “And other things.”</p><p>She laughed and continued dressing. Perhaps this evening, after dinner, she would read him the new article he acquired for her. They would probably be naked and lying atop one another, sweaty and spent, but it seemed most of their conversations occurred in such circumstances now. She was not complaining.</p><p>Once Mulder was dressed, he leaned down to kiss her, languid and slow. His hand snaked around her waist, and he whispered in her ear as he pulled her close. “I would stay a little longer, sweetheart, but when the boss calls, I must answer.”</p><p>Tipping his hat at her and winking, he left. Dana fell back on her bed, wearing only her corset and petticoats, the rest of her clothing forgotten for the moment. She touched her lips with her fingers and closed her eyes. She may be incorrigible but he was… oh, he was so wonderfully frustrating.</p><p>***</p><p>She’d managed to finish dressing after a few minutes of wrestling with her desire and her duty. Sitting at her desk, she wrote out the plans for teaching the girls over the next week, when Mulder came through the door. She held her finger up to him to be quiet while she finished writing her last thought.</p><p>When she looked up at him, he did not seem happy.</p><p>“What is it?” she asked.</p><p>“I have to go,” he said, not meeting her eyes. He had his empty rucksack in his hands.</p><p>She waited for him to finish, but he just stood there, shifting uncomfortably near her door and making no move either towards her or to whatever he needed to fetch.</p><p>“Go where, Mulder?” Her heart fluttered, some shadow peeking at her from the corner of her mind at the tone of his voice, at his following silence.</p><p>“It’s a lead, on Samantha.”</p><p>She pursed her lips, the shadow coalescing into the figure of a woman. “From Diana?”</p><p>He looked at her, then, sorrowful determination in his eyes, and nodded.</p><p>It was not jealousy that ignited a fire in her belly. After this time with Mulder, after all they had shared, she knew his heart. She trusted him completely. He would not fall into her bed, but he would fall for her manipulations in other ways, of course he would.</p><p>“Has she ever given you anything useful, Mulder?”</p><p>He looked at her, his face blank, keeping his thoughts locked away. “She has given me more information than anyone.”</p><p>“Information that has only led to empty rooms and false rumors?”</p><p>“Whatever our history, she is a friend, Dana. She is not good for me in a relationship, but I don’t want that from her anymore. Otherwise, I trust her.” </p><p>Dana shook her head. A sharp pain rose up her chest, and she turned away from him, clutching onto the lace ruffles at the collar of her dress and squeezing her eyes shut. If Mulder left to pursue this task, she had a very clear feeling that something terrible was going to happen. She had no basis for this strange sense of foreboding, other than a certainty that Diana did not have any motivations except those that would benefit herself.</p><p>Mulder continued, “You do not have to worry about us, Dana.”</p><p>“I don’t,” she said, out of breath.</p><p>“Then, what…?”</p><p>“Does she know about us?” she asked, composing herself and facing him once more.</p><p>He tilted his head at her curiously. “You think she would care?”</p><p>She stared at him.</p><p>“Dana, she doesn't care about me that way. She merely used me, I was her plaything. That’s all.”</p><p>“Do not underestimate a woman who gets her toys taken away from her, Mulder.”</p><p>“She’s not like that,” he said harshly.</p><p>“From everything you’ve told me, she is exactly like that.” Her eyes bored into his, willing him to believe her. He did not back down, storm clouds passing over his face. After all he’d told her, why would he trust that woman?</p><p>“You don’t know her, Dana. I cannot believe you are being jealous,” he said, and stalked over to where he’d been keeping his clothes, ending the conversation. Taking a few items from the chest, he haphazardly threw them in the sack and rooted around for something else. He did not speak, and silence between them grew heavy and thick. </p><p>Maybe it was jealousy that clouded her mind, but she did not think so. But what else could she say? She had no evidence that something would go wrong, only a sick feeling deep in her gut, and she was the one who always dismissed such things.</p><p>“How long will you be gone?” she asked, keeping her voice steady, despite wanting to shake him, to make him see reason. But she did not want to argue any longer, knowing that Mulder was apt to do something reckless if he was upset.</p><p>“I don’t want to leave,” he said, spinning around, a pair of trousers in his hands. He’d been twisting them in his hands, and they were impossibly wrinkled. Dana walked over and took them from him, spreading her hands over the thick cotton and folding them neatly before handing them back.</p><p>“Then don’t,” she said. She recalled a conversation they had only a few nights ago, when he’d asked her where she would go, if she was finally free of her brothers, if she did not have to worry. “Leave with me, tonight. We can go to California. Start over.”</p><p>“I can’t,” he said, looking away from her. “I need to do this, Dana. You know how important this is to me.”</p><p>“I know,” she said. She would not beg him to stay, as strongly as she felt that he should not go.</p><p>“I promise you this, though, if it will take longer than a few days, I won’t risk it.” He looked back at her again, and though his eyes pierced through hers, she felt he was already on the road, travelling away from her. “I won’t leave you alone for longer than that.”</p><p>“I can take care of myself.”</p><p>He huffed, shaking his head. “I know that.” He reached up and tucked a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. “I would be here anyway.”</p><p>She nodded, and he kissed her forehead before brushing past her to the door. Dread started to fill her up, from her toes to the top of her head, her hands clenching into fists.</p><p>“I have a bad feeling, Mulder,” she said. “Please be careful.”</p><p>He turned, his hand on the doorknob, smiling slightly. “You do not believe in premonitions, sweetheart. I will be fine.”</p><p>Not knowing what possessed her, she unfastened her necklace and approached, holding it out to him. “Take this, and bring it back to me.”</p><p>He placed it in one of the pockets of his vest and patted it. Leaning over, he kissed her. She grasped his tie and held him in place, wishing she could make him stay, but she stayed quiet. He was right: she did not believe in such things, her thoughts were irrational, just a manifestation of the idea of being away from him, most likely. </p><p>Regardless, her heart thumped in her chest. Leaning against the doorframe, her eyes did not leave him as he left, though he did not spare her another glance, already distracted by the journey ahead. His life’s obsession, something she knew was his one weakness, that other people would be too willing to exploit.</p>
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<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Temptation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Mulder dismounted Justice, his trusty buckskin gelding, and hitched him to the post in front of Diana’s manor. The large two-storey house resided just outside of Grey Canyon, a five minute ride with which he was well familiar. He took his time patting the side of his horse's neck, making sure the harness was attached securely, even though he knew Justice was more likely to follow him up to the door rather than wander away.</p><p>Dana’s words, and the haunted look in her eyes, festered in his mind. It was so unlike her to be certain of an outcome. Likelihoods, probabilities, for certain, but to know something would go wrong? It caused gooseflesh to rise on his arms.</p><p>Regardless, he walked up the steps to Diana’s front door, the massive structure unlike anything else in the town, except for, perhaps, the Gilded Hall itself. He knew the inside of her home was immaculate and full of expensive furnishings. She had several servants who attended to her every need, and had no reason to venture outside of her four walls. Beneath the outward display of wealth, he knew things weren’t quite what they seemed. The furniture was scratched and out-dated. The servants underpaid. The house on loan to a banker that owed Diana some favors. It would not be long before she would need to look elsewhere, to a rich suitor perhaps, to continue living lavishly.</p><p>The day was yet young, the sun only just reaching its highest point in the sky. When the door opened, however, Diana was wearing clothing fit only for sleeping, or waking.</p><p>He coughed, and stepped away, wrapping his hand around the decorative column at the top of the steps, staying as far away from her as the porch would allow. He looked down at the white wooden slats, feeling heat rise into his cheeks.</p><p>“Won’t you come in?” she said sweetly, her perfume wafting over, strangling him silent. “We could have some tea, and… reminisce... before you go on your adventure.”</p><p>He shook his head. He had no doubt what she intended if he stepped through her threshold. Not quite sheer, her gown nevertheless showed more than it hid.</p><p>She huffed, but was not dissuaded.</p><p>“At least come in while I fetch the letter? I was not prepared for how quickly you’d arrive,” she said, playing with the collar of her low cut blouse, and biting her lip. “I didn’t realize how anxious you’d be to see me.”</p><p>“I-I’ll wait right here, Diana,” he stammered, clearing his throat and finally meeting her gaze.</p><p>Her dark eyes bored into his, making him feel as though he were an intruder, despite her invitation. He rubbed the back of his neck and pushed back an apology. <i>What am I sorry for? She asked me here.</i></p><p>“Fox,” she purred. “You are being rather rude in front of a lady.”</p><p>He pursed his lips and remained silent. He would not play her games, would not give into the guilt that rose up and pushed him forward, willing to do whatever it was she asked of him. He closed his eyes and remembered the clarity in Dana’s gaze, warning him, telling him to be careful. But above all, he remembered her loving hands, her warm smile, making him believe he was a good man.</p><p>He straightened his shoulders, feeling renewed and confident. Diana seemed different, insignificant, once he focused himself, thought of his future instead of his past.</p><p>“I don’t have time for this, Diana, just the information, please.”</p><p>Diana’s gaze hardened and strayed to his open collar, to the sparkle of the golden necklace he wore.</p><p>“That bookish whore has you on a leash I see.”</p><p>“Do not talk about her,” he said gruffly.</p><p>She shook her head, her face curled up in a disgusted sneer. “I will never understand a man’s need to pluck at wildflowers when a manicured rose lies waiting for them.”</p><p>She whipped around and stalked into her house, slamming the door. His grip on the porch column relaxed once she was gone, and he let out a shaky breath.</p><p>He waited, ten minutes, fifteen, then longer. He wasn’t sure how long it was, but he started to pace, wearing down the dirt in front of her steps when the door finally opened. She was fully dressed now, but her gown still drew the eye to her ample attributes. Standing in her doorway, she held out a folded piece of paper. He sucked in a breath before approaching and reaching for it. She pulled it away, and he paused.</p><p>“Just a kiss, for old times’ sake?” she asked, her lip trembling just so, her eyes deceptively innocent.</p><p>He stopped, looking at her face, then the letter.</p><p>“No, Diana.”</p><p>She let the letter drop from her hand, and it fluttered to the ground. The door slammed in his face as he reached down to fetch it.</p><p><i>Dana was right</i>, Mulder thought. But, he had the information from her anyway, and he felt a surge of pride in himself for dealing with her as calmly as he had. Diana would understand, eventually.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p>The note Diana gave him had directions to a ranch not but a few hours from town. He watched the large homestead from a hedge-topped ridge nearby, waiting for sundown before taking a closer look. Several men and a few women came and went from the home. He didn’t think he saw any women with long, dark hair, though the sun was in front of him and it was difficult to see clearly.</p><p>Normally, when he had a lead on his search for Samantha, adrenaline coursed through his veins, making him restless, reckless. This time, though, Dana’s voice wove through his mind, settling him, making the wait bearable. He grinned when he thought of her. Perhaps, if everything went right, he would be back in her bed before dawn. He would wake her with a kiss, and they could make love, soothing over the argument they’d had earlier in the day. It was curious, but he felt more restless to get back to her, rather than explore the house in front of him. He looked behind him, reassuring himself of Justice’s presence, hitched loosely to a low-hanging branch several yards away and grazing on sparse patches of crabgrass. The thought of leaving before he got his answers popped in his head, shocking him with how comfortable it felt; however, guilt set in, and he settled back into the dirt, ready for a long wait.</p><p>The night fell, and Mulder watched as Andromeda peeked overhead. He remembered his first night with Dana only a week earlier. Tracing the stars with his eyes, he made a wish - please let me get home safe to her - before scrambling out of his hiding spot and approaching the house, crouched low. The moon was nearly full, giving him plenty of light to see his footing, but making him more easily visible, should anyone look outside of a window.</p><p>It took an achingly long time to reach the fence surrounding the property, then even longer to sidle up to the house. The curtains were open, no one within miles to disturb the family hiding away out here. It was a richly appointed ranch, well-built and sturdy, manicured flower beds and even a fountain with bubbling water displayed prominently in front. This place was very different from the other places he’d been sent in search of his sister, but it gave him hope. If a wealthy family took Samantha in, perhaps she had led a good life instead of the hopeless one that he usually imagined.</p><p>Peeking in each window, he finally found a bedroom, appointed with lace and girlish things. The latch on the window was easy to unlock with a wire he’d procured for such a situation. Slowly, he opened it, thankful for well-greased hinges. Stepping up on a barrel, he inched inside, watching carefully for any delicate bauble that he might knock over and alert the household.</p><p>Finally inside, he let his eyes adjust to the dim light. Two girls slept here, bundled in their light quilts. Too small to be the 23-year-old woman he hunted. He tread lightly to the door, the thick rugs lining the floor muffling his footsteps. Stepping into the hallway, he looked around the corner, his breath the only thing he could hear. Oil lamps lit the hall dimly, keeping away the shadows, giving him enough light to maneuver without difficulty.</p><p>A comfortable home and family, that they should sleep soundlessly at night. Someday, perhaps, he would have such a place of his own. His concentration interrupted by a sudden vision of Dana’s face, waking sleepily from pleasant dreams, smiling at him. He bumped into a table, grasped the vase that nearly crashed to the floor, and stood still, heart thumping as he waited to see if anyone heard his stumblings. Breathing outward in relief, he continued his exploration of the house, banishing the all-consuming thoughts of his lover with some difficulty.</p><p>Room by room, he checked the inhabitants, impatience and a familiar desperation settling over him. Something itched in the back of his mind, but he ignored it, needing to finish his search, hoping that this would end it, finally, that she would have lived a good life.</p><p>The door to the last room was in front of him. Wiping his sweaty hands on his trousers, he cracked the door open and looked inside. Complete blackness. He reached into his pocket for a match, and lit it, noting two slight but adult figures sleeping in two beds, thick curtains blocking out the moon and stars. Opening the door fully, he crept inside and shut the door quietly behind him, lighting another match as the other threatened to burn his fingers. His eyes swept over the furnishings, the pictures, the two bundles on the beds. <i>CAREFUL</i>, he heard in his head. Dana. He moved forward slowly, lighting yet another match on the way.</p><p>Blonde hair in one bed, dark hair in the other. He reached for the covers of the woman with dark hair, slowly pulling it back. Suddenly, she turned around, eyes wide, mouth open in shock. Disappointment flooded him, overwhelming his common sense. It was not Samantha. Similar, to be sure, but definitely not her.</p><p>“HELP!” she yelled.</p><p>He shushed her, wincing at her loud voice, stumbling backwards and landing on the other bed, sitting on the other girl lying there. She, too, awoke, and began screaming.</p><p>“I’m sorry! There’s been a mistake!” he whispered, scrambling away from the other girl and standing. He did not think they heard him overtop the noise they made. Swearing, he dropped the match and stamped it out, once again shrouding the room in blackness. Footsteps in the hall. Yelling outside of the room. He did not have much time.</p><p>He turned in the direction of the window, his hands reaching out in front of him to grasp the curtains and throw them open. Wrenching open the window, he jumped out of it, landing in a trough filled with cold, muddy water. Sputtering, he clambered out and ran in the direction of his horse, the house now awake and bright, alerted to his presence. In his mind, he heard the sounds of guns being cocked, orders being given, the blubbering cries of the women he’d scared. This was not good.</p><p>Cursing at the moon driving away shadows and making his escape troublesome, he ran from bush to bush, not able to take a direct route to avoid being spotted. The light of several lanterns spread out from the home, the men of the house searching for him. His heart pounded, he was out of breath, but he finally reached Justice and scrambled atop him, kicking his heels into his flank and riding away as fast as he could.</p><p>His mind caught up, analyzing what he’d seen in the home, what he’d ignored in favor of finding his sister. The pictures. He’d recognized the man featuring prominently in several of them: the sheriff.</p><p>“Oh, shit!”</p>
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<a name="section0019"><h2>19. WANTED</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It had been three days since Mulder left. Dana kept herself busy, not only by teaching the girls and catching up with Monica, but venturing outside to help John in the stables. After he got over his initial shyness, he seemed comfortable with her there. His quiet presence soothed her worries, and the unfamiliarity of the tasks she assisted him with made it easy to focus on the present. Most importantly, he did not talk about Mulder. Perhaps it was because he was uncomfortable with the nature of their relationship, or that he sensed she needed something else, but their easy, infrequent conversations usually centered around practical matters, and the very occasional, and surprising, philosophical debate. </p><p>She’d also noticed his interest in Nellie, though he rarely entered the Gilded Hall except when Madam needed him. Nellie seemed to be the only one who didn’t tease him for his timidity, and though they only shared pleasantries, she thought they might make a good match. Nellie had not yet started work again in the brothel, her nerves still too frayed to attend to a man on her own, and Monica would not push that on her until she was ready. Perhaps she never would. That happened, sometimes, and in those cases they usually went out west with their earnings to attend a women’s seminary, furthering their education. Maybe she would stay, though.</p><p>They rested in silence after replacing a rotted section of wall with new planks. The dirt under her fingernails and mud at the hem of her dress meant more work once she went back inside, but more work meant less time to idle and think. To wonder at whether Mulder’s ‘few days’ meant two, or three. Whether it would be acceptable to send someone out to look for him.</p><p>“Want a lemonade, John?”</p><p>“Certainly, Miss Shaeffer.”</p><p>“I’ve told you to call me Dana.”</p><p>He nodded and blushed.</p><p>When she headed into the dining room, she heard a commotion coming from Monica’s office. The door flew open and two men she did not recognize, wearing dark suits and similar expressions, emerged. They eyed everyone in the Hall with suspicion as they continued their long stride out the front doors. She caught a glint of silver on the lapel of one of their jackets before they left - a deputy?</p><p>She looked back to Monica’s office, and the other woman stood in the doorway, holding her lit pipe near her mouth, the sharp smell of tobacco wafting around her.</p><p>“Come in, Dana,” Monica said, her troubled expression giving Dana pause. An irrational thought came into her mind, that perhaps if she denied the other woman’s request, if she turned around and pretended she did not summon her, the bad news would cease to exist.</p><p>“Dana,” Monica repeated. Shaking herself, Dana forced herself forward, slipping past the other woman into the dim, smoky office. </p><p>Monica clicked the door shut behind her and sat at her desk, taking a long drag from her pipe and exhaling. She avoided Dana’s eyes as she sat in front of her, fingers tapping on a slip of paper folded on the richly stained wood surface.</p><p>“We’ve got a problem.”</p><p>Dana bit her lip, clasping her trembling hands together in her lap.</p><p>“I don’t want you to worry. Or think the worst.” Monica’s uncharacteristically hesitant expression caused gooseflesh to rise on her arms.</p><p>“Just tell me.”</p><p>Instead, Monica passed over the paper, on which was written:</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p><b>WANTED</b><br/>
DEAD or ALIVE<br/>
For Attempted Rape and Kidnapping<br/>
Of Sheriff Richardson’s Young Daughters!<br/>
$1000 Reward.</p>
</div>Accompanying these words was a very crude description and sketch of a tall man, with dark hair and golden skin, riding a beautiful “stolen” buckskin horse.<p>“This is supposed to be Mulder?” Dana asked. “He wouldn’t--”</p><p>“Of course not, his actions were misconstrued,” Monica said. “From what I understand, though, the entire town has been whipped into a frenzy, by the thought of some monster climbing into women’s rooms, and--”</p><p>“He could leave the horse, change his clothes… come back on foot and hide out here--”</p><p>“That’s another problem,” Monica interrupted.</p><p>Dana twisted her hands together in her lap while she waited for her to continue.</p><p>“It seems…” Monica started, as she vigorously tapped her pipe into its bowl, emptying its contents. “Someone has informed the Sheriff that this individual is a regular here.”</p><p>“But… what?”</p><p>“Someone in a unique position to know exactly who it was who went to the Sheriff’s ranch and may have had a reason to sneak into a girls’ room.”</p><p>Dana sighed, rubbing her hand over her mouth. “Diana.”</p><p>Monica nodded, her frown deepening.</p><p>“I told him--” Dana started.</p><p>“Since when does that man listen to reason when he’s determined to think otherwise.”</p><p>They sat in silence for a few moments. Dana’s fingers traced over the sketch, and when she squinted she saw him there, his handsome face clear as day. She hoped it would not be as easy for others. Closing her eyes, she folded the paper in half and set it back on Monica’s desk.</p><p>“What can you do, Monica?” </p><p>“Dana.”</p><p>“There has to be something…” Dana said, her mind a whirlwind. “Perhaps if you tell the Sheriff what Mulder was there for, he would have some sympathy. If he knew he wasn’t there to cause harm.”</p><p>“I do not think so,” Monica huffed, her eyes intent. “The Sheriff is a hard man, Dana. I have tried working with him, and he only reluctantly accepts my… donations, because I do not cause a ruckus. I am a ‘regretful necessity’, were his words, as well as ‘at least I am cleaner than the one I replaced’.”</p><p>Monica averted her gaze and leaned back in her chair.</p><p>“His family is involved, and that makes him very unreasonable. Or perhaps reasonable, if you think about what one might think about what a strange man might be doing in the bedroom of young women,” she said. “The truth is, Dana, the ‘or Alive’ part of that poster is merely a formality. If he is found, he will be shot, and if he is not shot, he will be hung.”</p><p>She stared at Monica, who looked past her at the photos mounted on the wall, still refusing to look at her. She understood her words, but they did not sink in. </p><p>“You have to warn him,” Dana said, her voice gravelly and low.</p><p>A knock at the door. Monica looked at her again, her eyes sad, as if things were already decided. “That should be Walt, I’m sending him out to find Mulder, to tell him to avoid this place.”</p><p>Monica rose, opening the door and letting Walt in just enough so she could whisper in his ear. Walt glanced over at Dana, his attempt at a soft smile appeared as a grimace on his serious face. Clenching her jaw, anger flooded her chest, warmed her cheeks. She did not need sympathy and softness, she needed them to do something, needed a plan. The walls felt like they were closing in around her.</p><p>“You sent him to her, Monica,” she said, standing and brushing past them into the dining room. “You make this right.”</p><p>Dana fetched the drinks from the bar and headed back outside, handing John his glass and sitting on a chair to drink her own. </p><p>It was done, and it was almost a relief. The terrible thing she’d predicted had happened, she did not have to wait, wondering ‘if’ or ‘when’. As with most things in her life, this was out of her hands. She had to trust that Monica and Walt would do what was needed, that Mulder would stay away. That some solution would come forward. She had to.</p><p>“Take your glass?” John interrupted.</p><p>She handed it over, and he placed them on a table nearby. His small smile was innocent, unaware of the knowledge she now possessed.</p><p>“Hold these boards for me, Miss… uh, Dana?” he asked. “If you’re still wanting to help, that is?”</p><p>She nodded and walked over to him, taking the thin plank of wood and holding it in place. She immersed herself in the present: the flies buzzing irritatingly around her, the vibration of the wood as he hammered, the heat of the sun on her back, and his quiet voice talking about insignificant things. All strange enough that she did not drift away, thinking about the past or the future. No downturned mouths or watery eyes reminding her of what she would most certainly lose, if events did not suddenly turn around for the better. </p><p>A dark thought bloomed in her mind. Since when did things ever work in her favor? Her family, her education, and now her lover. She could not hold onto anything and she did not think that there would be a flying horse swooping in to save her, or Mulder, this time.</p>
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<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Andromeda awaits</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <b>Content warning: this chapter is rated M (Mature) for sexual situations</b>
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    <p>The moon waned in the sky, the brightness of the full moon turning to new. Soon everything would be shrouded in darkness at night. Mulder crouched atop the Gilded Hall’s roof, a blanket spread beneath him, all the rest of his belongings on Justice, several hundred yards away hitched to a tree. He hoped no one would come across him. He hoped he would remember the direction to get back to him. Most of all though, he hoped he had been right to come here.</p><p>Three days earlier, Walt found him hiding at the old mill, his fascination with the place no secret to those he told his ghost stories. He hid for as long as he could, but one morning he woke up, and knew that he had to see her. Even though it was dangerous. He needed her to know what she meant to him, just in case the worst happened.</p><p>So, he left the mill around noon, travelling the half-a-day back to town. Waited until near midnight before sneaking up to the Hall, avoiding patrols in the shadows of buildings. John dozed in his cot that he kept in the stables, never wanting to be too far from the horses. Mulder pressed his hand to John’s mouth to keep him quiet, giving him a message to pass on to Dana. </p><p>“Andromeda awaits.”</p><p>And so he waited, looking upwards. It was not so difficult, knowing she was here, only a few yards away, through slate and wood. The cloudy sky only allowed a few stars to peek through its canopy. He could not see their constellation, though he stared until his eyes watered.</p><p>The hatch up to the roof opened, and he heard the snick of the ladder as it fell in place, a brief whispered conversation, then quiet footsteps as she ascended. She was there, finally, in front of him. Still dressed, and not hastily, despite the hour. He wondered how she occupied her time, jealousy and guilt warring for predominance.</p><p>She paused when she reached the top, her eyes adjusting to the lightless roof. </p><p>“Mulder?”</p><p>“It’s me.”</p><p>“What are you doing here? Don’t you know--”</p><p>“I cannot stay long. But I had to see you.”</p><p>She was next to him, suddenly, pulling him down into a hungry kiss, clutching his collar and tugging at his hair. His hands swept along her back, pulling her tight against him, tasting her again after what felt like forever. He loosened the knot of her hair, letting it fall down her back, his hands weaving through the soft curls. </p><p>
  <i>God, I love her.</i>
</p><p>Laying her down on the blanket, he tried to pull away and look at her, to reassure himself that she was here, but she did not let him. Her nails dug into neck, and she nipped at his mouth, her tongue tracing over his lips.</p><p>“Dana…”</p><p>“Don’t talk, just touch me,” she whispered, nuzzling her nose against his cheek. He nodded, rubbing his forehead against her hair. He missed her, ached to touch her. That she felt the same burning passion made his cock twitch against the folds of her skirts. He’d come here to talk, to apologize, to promise to make things right, but she had other ideas, it seemed. Far be it for him to argue.</p><p>So he kissed her, tasting the sweet, sensitive skin under her ear. She was intoxicating, and he was shocked at the familiarity of it, as if he’d been near her his whole life. Her throaty gasps drove him wild, inflaming his desire. Reaching between them, she expertly unbuttoned the top of her dress, the clasps of her corset, then separated the delicate lace of her chemise, baring herself to him. His hand reached for her breasts as he kissed her.</p><p>“Yes,” she gasped into his mouth. “Harder.”</p><p>He pinched, and she moaned against him.</p><p>When he went to pull away again, to see her laid beneath him, she grabbed onto him once more, preventing his retreat. Normally they whispered things to each other, taking the time to gaze at one another and connect on a level that transcended the physical. Her urgency caused alarm bells to ring in the back of his head. Something was wrong.</p><p>“Dana, is there something--”</p><p>“Please, baby,” she said desperately. Her hands gripped his shoulders and she pressed her lips along his stubbly jaw, not seeming to care that her fair skin would be scratched and red when they were finished. “Please.”</p><p>He would not make her beg.</p><p>He massaged her breast again, pinching and twisting her nipple at her encouragement. She was wild underneath him, her cries muffled into his shoulder, her hands scratching at his back, tugging at his hair. Their lips crushed together: hungry, needy, never enough. He was afraid to pull away again. That she would be disappointed. He’d done too much of that lately. If this is what she wanted, what she needed, he could give that to her.</p><p>Suddenly, she shoved him off her, straddling his thighs. Her hands moved to his waist, unbuckling his belt, pulling down his pants just enough to free his erection. She became a shade above him, the dim light obscuring her eyes, but he saw her mouth curl up in a small smile as she held him, stroking upwards. His head fell back at her touch, banging against the hard roof underneath his thin blanket. He would feel that later, but now, all he knew was the touch of her hands, the burning need deep in his groin, and the tingling that spread throughout his body.</p><p>Adjusting her skirts, she sunk down upon him in one quick, smooth motion. Strangled whimpers. Him or her? </p><p><i>Both</i>, he thought. <i>Oh God</i>. </p><p>She felt wet and warm and tight and it was heaven, but this all was happening much more quickly than usual. It was difficult, this felt so fucking good, but he wrested back some control. He tucked his hands underneath her dress and caressed her back, willing her to look at him. To give him some sign that he hadn’t hurt her.</p><p>She was still, head bowed, her hands grasping his chest painfully. He nearly spoke before she began to rock against him, to sigh contentedly at their joining. This was different than the other times they’d been together, but he sensed it would not do for him to pull away and slow things down as he usually did. He followed her lead. </p><p>Knowing that this was her, that this was home... <i>how could I leave her again?</i></p><p>He would not last long, not with the vision of her above him, almost fully dressed, the curves of her breasts brushing against her clothing as she moved, her hair ticking his arms. And, finally, her face contorted with pleasure, her eyes revealed to him when she leaned down for a kiss. She still loved him. It would be okay.</p><p>He came, jerking into her as he held her waist, feeling as if he could wrap himself around her and fly away. Just her and him. No one else.</p><p>When he returned to himself, she was laying heavily atop him, her heart beating rapidly against his as she caught her breath. Her arms squeezed his sides, not letting him move. Caressing his hands up and down her back, he kissed the top of her head.</p><p>“That was… incredible,” he whispered.</p><p>She tensed at his words, then pulled away, kneeling beside him. Her hands shook as she attempted to put her dress back in place.</p><p>He leaned upwards and covered her hands with his own. “Dana.”</p><p>Jerking away from him, the clouds parted and the moonlight shone on her face. Creases between her brows, her mouth drawn in a tight line, and the shine of tears in her eyes.</p><p>“What’s the matter, sweetheart?”</p><p>Her tears fell, his heart sank.</p><p>“I could not resist. I needed to feel you. But you shouldn’t have come.”</p><p>“I had to.”</p><p>“They will kill you, if they find you,” she said. “Why, Mulder. Why did you have to risk it.”</p><p>“I was careful, Dana. Nothing is going to happen to me,” he said, reaching out once more to run his hands along her skirts. “You are more important.”</p><p>She stood and stepped away from him, biting her trembling lip, tears coursing down her face. “Please do not make me responsible for your foolish decisions.”</p><p>“Believe me, I am the only fool here.”</p><p>“Go.”</p><p>“I can stay a little while longer,” he said, reaching for her again, but she withdrew, wiping at her tears. Shaking her head, she moved back towards the open hatch of the roof, then whipped around to face him. </p><p>“You did not believe me. When I told you about Diana. And now look. She has separated you from me just as surely as if one of us was already dead.”</p><p>“She didn’t--” </p><p>“She is the one that made it unsafe for you here.”</p><p>He shook his head. <i>No. She wouldn’t have. Would she?</i></p><p>“Go. To her if you must,” she spat. “Since you still seem to put your trust there despite everything she has done.”</p><p>“I don’t…” he trailed off. “Dana. Please. I had no choice.”</p><p>“You speak about choice?” she whispered furiously, tears streaming down her face. “You have a choice, Mulder. It is I who have none. I wait for my brothers, for what they will bring here, to decide my future. It is you who chooses to live in the past, to follow the slimmest of leads, to deny yourself your own future.”</p><p>“Dana… I cannot abandon Samantha.”</p><p>“And so you abandon me,” she said, stepping onto the ladder with finality. His heart clenched at the truth in her words.</p><p>Clambering up off the blanket, he attempted to untangle himself and reach her, convince her of what she meant to him. His shaking hands wrestled with the material of his pants, watching her helplessly as she descended the steps. Before she disappeared back into the Hall, she looked at him.</p><p>“Please, Mulder,” she begged. “Just live.”</p><p>He nodded, but she was already gone. The ladder removed, the door closed. It was only him and the stars, and even those were in hiding. He would see her again, would see her blue eyes shining at him without the threat of tears. He had to.</p><p><i>I will live</i>, he thought. <i>No matter the cost.</i></p>
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<a name="section0021"><h2>21. The most wonderful and most terrible</h2></a>
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    <p>In the hall below the rooftop hatch, John watched her as she fled to the darkness of her room. She was thankful for his silence, that he did not follow. Her tears had dried up. An emptiness settled within her, and it felt right. Mulder had taken a risk, with the force of a few dozen men hunting him. </p><p>
  <i>For me.</i>
</p><p>She was selfish. Responsible. Guilty. If the situation weren’t so heated between them, he would not have been so desperate to see her. If she wasn’t overcome by her fears, she wouldn’t have left him standing on the roof, upset and reckless. It was her fault he came, and her fault he would be caught.</p><p>The sheriff and his deputies watched the Gilded Hall day and night. Mulder would not be so lucky to be unseen twice; it was impossible, and she was never any good at believing in the fantastical. He would be discovered, and her words charging him to live would not change that fact. </p><p>She had said her goodbyes, however inadequate they seemed now.</p><p>The music from the dining room filtered through her walls. Light shone underneath her door. She felt every stitch in the quilt upon which she sat. </p><p>Something shifted in her mind. The past became shrouded in blackness as dark as her room. It held her, protected her. Her gaze now fixed onto the future. What she must do now that she was on her own. What she could do. For once, her thoughts did not stray to her brothers, her inevitable imprisonment on their behalf. They were of no consequence, now that she was a widow in every way that mattered.</p><p>Despite her precautions, perhaps she would find herself with child. Falling back on her bed, she laid her hand on her abdomen. She would carry his son, or daughter, then move out west like they’d talked about. Before. Certainly she could not remain here, even though they would be welcome. A brothel was no place to raise a child. Teaching, then? She thought she’d developed a knack for it, and the prospects were gloomy for a single mother who pretended at having lost a husband. </p><p>Dana closed her eyes. She found herself beneath her sheets, clad only in her underclothes. <i>When did I undress?</i> Her mind wandered once more.</p><p>If she was not pregnant, she saw her life continuing here. Working with Monica to help the girls, teaching them and allowing them to move on to brighter prospects. Reading about medical breakthroughs, celebrating them as one would cheer on a play, as a spectator. Perhaps, she would grow closer to Monica, their shared loss and understanding making them partners in a different way. Taking comfort in one another and shining a light when their days were blackest, when memories rose sharply and folded them over like ragdolls.</p><p>An arm on hers, then, shaking her firmly.</p><p>“Dana.”</p><p>Monica. <i>Am I in my second future?</i></p><p>“Dana, you need to get up,” she said, gentle but insistent. She sat next to her on the bed, her hand stroking up and down her arm.</p><p>She became aware, then, of the pounding in her head and her parched throat. Her room aglow with the pink and gold of sunset. <i>How long have I been laying here?</i></p><p>“What?” she croaked.</p><p>“You’ve not left your bed all day. John told me Mulder was here. He was worried about you... <i><b>I’m</b></i> worried about you.” Monica helped her sit up, and lifted a glass of water to her mouth.</p><p>She sipped the water, fearing her next question. Needed to ask it. “Is he dead?”</p><p>Monica shook her head. “We would know if they caught him. He is still alive.”</p><p>“It is only a matter of time.”</p><p>The other woman sighed. “You cannot give up.”</p><p>Dana swallowed and looked away. Tears rose, from somewhere deep inside. She thought she was finished with them.</p><p>Monica rested her hand atop hers, and placed the half-empty glass on her table, atop the papers and journals and the cloth folded around the four-leaf clover that Melvin gave her. Things she had not yet shared with him. Never would? Even so, she reached over and moved the glass before it could make a mark.</p><p>“Dana, you have not known him as long as I,” Monica started. “He is the luckiest son-of-a-bitch I have ever come across. Even when he intends to lose himself, to drown and disappear, he comes back. There is something guiding him, I know it.”</p><p>Dana looked up at Monica, willing away her tears. She bit her lip. “I have always been a realist - or a cynic, as my sister called me. I’ve never been good at believing that something should happen just because I wish it.”</p><p>“Believe in this,” Monica insisted. She swiped away a stray tear that escaped from Dana’s eye, tucking a wild strand of damp hair behind her ear. “Now that he has you to come back to, I don’t think that there is anything that could stop him.”</p><p>“I’m scared, Monica,” Dana confessed.</p><p>“Dana, the sheriff may be dangerous and unreasonable, but there are other avenues that I am exploring. You cannot lose hope. Not while he is still out there. Not while he lives. If it turns out otherwise, there will be plenty of time for grieving,” Monica said, pressing her hand above her heart. “I know what that is like. You do not want to do more of it if you can help it.”</p><p>Dana nodded. “I hate this. I hate feeling so weak. Perhaps... it would be better if I went back to New York, forgot about all the trouble I’ve brought you. That I’ve brought him.”</p><p>“I won’t hear of it.”</p><p>“But...”</p><p>“Love is the most wonderful and most terrible thing that exists. But when you find it, you don’t let it go, because to do so is easier. You would regret such a thing for the rest of your life.” Monica pulled her into an embrace, holding her tightly and whispered against her hair. “Love may make you weak, drive you to drink and despair. But it also gives you strength. It is what will make him survive.”</p><p>“You think so?”</p><p>“I know it.”</p><p>“I told him to live.”</p><p>“Then he will do so.”</p><p>Dana squeezed her eyes shut. It was not yet time to move on. <i>I would know, wouldn’t I? If he was gone?</i> Her heart still felt full, as if he could not possibly have left this earth. Holding onto the comfort that Monica gave her, she reached deep within herself and found her strength. Embers, cooled to a black-red glow, flared cautiously as she allowed herself to hope once again.</p>
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<a name="section0022"><h2>22. Jerry</h2></a>
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    <p>When Mulder clambered off the roof of the Gilded Hall, he’d nearly been caught, falling so close to a snoring deputy that he could smell the whiskey on his breath. He quietly inched away, fearing at any moment his eyes would open, and he’d be done for. They remained closed, and he finally found his way to his horse, thunder crashing in the distance and rain beginning to fall. </p><p>Cursing at his luck and unluck, he mounted Justice and rode westwards instead of south. The old mill didn’t seem safe anymore, an itch in the back of his mind warning him away. The thick forests and tumbled rock at the base of the mountains would be a good place to lie low until he could think of a plan. Or, more like, until Dana and Monica thought of a plan to save his ass. </p><p>The rain hid his escape, muffling the sound of Justice’s hooves as he galloped past town. When he thought he was far enough, he travelled for another hour, just to be safe. In the pink light of dawn, he found a small outcropping that would serve him as a shelter. Packing away his things, he gave Justice a good rub down and settled in to start a fire.</p><p>Dana was right; he’d been reckless. But her touch soothed him after too many days and nights of wallowing in despair and loneliness. Memories of her warmed him more than his pathetic campfire. Her beautiful, anguished face spurred him forward, giving him strength. </p><p>  <i>I will do whatever it takes.</i></p><p>***</p><p>The rain fell for two days, and he huddled in his makeshift cave, cold and wet and miserable. Memories faded beneath guilt and the reality of his hopeless situation. He wanted nothing more than to return to Dana, crawl into her bed, and wrap himself around her. Wondered if she was thinking about him, whether she would still love him after all of this. Wondered if this was their future: breaking her heart and making her worry whenever he inevitably made a stupid decision.</p><p>He knew from the urgency of her touch back on the rooftop that something was wrong, knew he should stop her and beg her to talk. But he was weak, and she was everything he desired. She’d taken her pleasure, certainly, as he had his; but the aftermath? Was it worth it? Seeing her face twisted in pain and sadness filled him with shame. </p><p>The damp moss his only softness, the earthy soil and musky horse-scent of Justice his only reminder that this was not hell. He may deserve to live in such a place, but she did not. </p><p>The sun came out on the third day, brightly mocking his mood. He took advantage of it to dry his clothes, musty and foul from the few days he’d been shivering under his rock.</p><p>The creek was colder than he prepared himself for, as he bathed away the stink. He hung his tattered garments on low-hanging branches. Two sets of clothing, soon to be dry, seemed a luxury he did not deserve. But it would not do to perish out here from the elements.</p><p>
  <i>I will get back to her.</i>
</p><p>***</p><p>On the fourth day, the fitful sleep of a midday nap was interrupted by the soft whinnying of his horse, and an unfamiliar voice nearby.</p><p>“Damn, what a beaut! Who do ya belong to, fella?”</p><p>Mulder grabbed his revolver and crept from the shallow black hole of his shelter. </p><p>Peeking around the edge of a large boulder, he saw the filthiest, most ragged individual he’d ever encountered. The man’s hair was greasy and dirty, masking its original color. His clothes looked like they could fall off him at any moment. He patted the side of Justice’s neck with his skinny arm, fingering the soft hair of his mane.</p><p>“Stop right there.”</p><p>The man turned around, putting his hands above his head, eyes wide with alarm.</p><p>“Wasn’t doing nothin’,” he said, moving closer to Justice.</p><p>“Who are you?”</p><p>“Name’s Jerry,” he said, looking at Mulder closely. “Who’re you? Looks like you’s the one that don’t belong, with your fancy horse an’ fancy garb.”</p><p>“Talking pretty brave for someone a few seconds away from a bullet in their belly. Step away from my horse.”</p><p>“Nah, think I’m safer right here. This is my woods, my claim. You meanin’ to steal it?”</p><p>The tightness in Mulder’s shoulders eased slightly. He still held his gun on Jerry, but his arms relaxed. He took in Jerry’s full appearance: the large pack with tools hanging off of it, the grime that covered his scruffy face and hands.</p><p>“I’m just passing through,” Mulder said.</p><p>“Funny that. Looks like you’re set up for a while. Runnin’ from somethin’?” Jerry asked, looking at him closely. Mulder tensed, putting a bit more pressure on the trigger of his gun. Would it cost this man’s life for the chance to return to his own? He knew he would do what he had to, even if it meant he couldn’t live with himself afterwards. </p><p>“Don’t you worry, I ain’t no squealer. Law can go fuck itself, as I see it.” Jerry spat brownish liquid on the grass between them. “Just mindin’ my own business, just as long as you mind yours.”</p><p>Mulder let out a shaky breath and lowered his gun.</p><p>Jerry smiled, a great big grin revealing a mouthful of rotted teeth. “Well then, that’s a bit better. Don’t get much company out here, how ‘bout joinin’ me for a meal?”</p><p>“I don’t think--”</p><p>“C’mon now. This is my home,” Jerry said, waving his arms at the canopy of thick trees above him. “Would be rude not to share with a guest. An’ just as rude to refuse.”</p><p>Mulder nodded, holstering his weapon. He moved towards Justice, stroking his flank and murmuring a few words. Calming himself more than the horse, who had already bent down to eat more grass, unperturbed by the unexpected visitor.</p><p>“Well all right then!” Jerry exclaimed, smiling widely. He dug into his large pack and procured two cans. “Maybe you have somethin’ to share, too?”</p><p>“Thought I was your guest.”</p><p>“You’re also tresspassin’.”</p><p>Mulder sighed, and moved to his own dwindling supplies. Unwrapping a couple biscuits, he brought it over to the flat rock where Jerry was prying open the cans with his dirty knife.</p><p>“Oh, damn. Where’d you get those?” Jerry grabbed a biscuit and devoured it, crumbs falling down his face and onto the grass below.</p><p>“Home.” His heart ached. </p><p>The other man laughed. “You sure like to keep things serious. Still haven’t told me your name. Or I guess what I should call you, besides fancy man.”</p><p>Mulder frowned. He felt the farthest from fancy way out here, living in a cave and drying his clothes on branches. But compared to Jerry… well there wasn’t much that would look poorly.</p><p>“Uh, you can call me Charlie,” Mulder grumbled.</p><p>“Alright, Charlie’,” Jerry said. “Welcome to Jerry’s forest, where the birds sing sweetly and the rivers run with gold.”</p><p>“Gold?” Mulder said, his eyebrow arching. He had a vision of Dana's face with a similar expression that made him turn away, blinking back sudden tears. <i>Would I ever see her again? Trace my fingers over her brows, touch her soft skin?</i></p><p>“I find enough gold to keep me goin’.” He handed Mulder an open can and started on the other one. “Now you know what I’m doin’ here, what about you now?”</p><p>“I fucked up, that’s all you’ll get.”</p><p>Jerry nodded.</p><p>Mulder shoved spoonfuls of beans into his mouth without tasting them, forcing himself to chew and swallow. He heard Jerry’s words, but they fluttered away into the air around them. The more the other man talked, the more unbearable his company became, each syllable making him wince as food fell from his mouth.</p><p>“Could we sit in silence?” Mulder said, his words clipped and eyes dark.</p><p>Jerry looked at him, a stream of gravy running down his chin. He grinned. “Missin’ your pretty lady I take it, to go with all the rest of your pretty things?”</p><p>Mulder glowered at him.</p><p>“You fuck things up with her, too, that why you’re way out here?”</p><p>Mulder put the can aside and stood. <i>Who is this fucking asshole, what the fuck does he know?</i></p><p>“Nah, nah, don’t leave. I can take a hint,” Jerry said. “Don’t need someone wobblin’ their jaw at me when I’m feeling down, either. Just sit. You can talk when you’re ready enough.”</p><p>Mulder hesitated, wanting to escape to his cave and embrace his dark thoughts, but something earnest in the other man’s face made him pause. He sat back down, forcing himself to eat more of the food, telling himself it would give him strength, even if his stomach roiled as the vile slop slid down his throat.</p><p>Jerry kept his word, eating in silence and peering up at Mulder and around at his makeshift campsite. The small creek gurgled beside them, sunlight streaming through the leaves in the canopy way above, shining down on the both of them. It shone on the dirt caking Jerry’s face and hands, the torn sleeve of his shirt that he’d ripped in his escape from the sheriff’s ranch. He didn’t see any gold, not here.</p><p>“Sorry, Jerry,” Mulder said, his anger settling into melancholy. <i>He doesn’t deserve to be treated poorly, he’s just a lonely guy. His luck he's stuck with me.</i></p><p>“S’alright.”</p><p>“How long you been out here?”</p><p>Jerry looked skywards, licking the food from his lips. “Oh, a while. Ten now I reckon.”</p><p>“Months?”</p><p>“Years,” he laughed, looking back at Mulder and squinting his eyes. “When I get my gold, I mean to get myself a woman, or a few of ‘em. Mean to keep ‘em, too. Don’t plan on fuckin’ that up.”</p><p>Mulder shook his head, wiped his mouth with his handkerchief. “Smarter than me then.”</p><p>Jerry nodded, smiling widely. “Tell me what she’s like, this lady of yours.”</p><p>Mulder smiled. “I don’t think so.”</p><p>“Worried I’ll steal her from ya?”</p><p>“Of course.” Mulder smiled.</p><p>“Now don’t be cruel now,” Jerry joked. “Man like you, bet she’s a beauty. Don’t even need gold to win her over.”</p><p>Jerry’s eyes wandered over his extra set of clothes hanging nearby. “By the looks of things, you got some of that, too. Fine lookin’ clothes, I must say.”</p><p>“You’re welcome to them.”</p><p>Jerry turned his head to him, surprised. “Really?”</p><p>“Got an extra set here,” Mulder said, plucking at the vest he wore. “Don’t mean to stay long, if I can help it.”</p><p>Jerry stripped down right then and there, taking his clothes from the branches and caressing the fine material. Mulder would need them, wouldn’t he? He wasn’t sure what possessed him to give them away. Despite their obvious differences, and their short time together, Mulder thought he recognized something familiar in the rough, filthy prospector. </p><p>He knew he wasn’t being entirely unselfish, though. Perhaps he could force fate to intervene, if he had less to sustain him in these woods. Maybe his future would move in the right direction if he did a bit of good. He shook his head, thinking of what Dana would say. You make your own luck, your own destiny.</p><p>“So, what makes you think, after all these years, you’ll find gold here?” Mulder asked.</p><p>Jerry adjusted his collar as he finished dressing, preening under the good cotton and wool of his new garments. He sat down beside Mulder and looked at him a few moments, as if contemplating his next words more carefully.</p><p>“Got my reasons. Don’t speak of this to jus’ anyone, but you seem decent enough,” he said, patting his jacket. He leaned in, his voice lowering to a whisper. “I had a dream, you see. Gold flowing from this here stream, right near that tree over there…”</p><p>He pointed to a tree with a distinctive trunk that split into three thick branches, forming a crooked “W”. As Jerry continued his story, his eyes glazed over as he recalled his dream. Mulder’s mind wandered to other tales he’d heard, of prophetic visions. He wondered how it worked, if he could somehow harness it and know what the future held for himself. If only.</p><p>“A spirit spoke to me, gave me clues. I know I’ll find it here. It’s a sign, sent from God or... some other being.” Jerry looked back at Mulder with a twinkle in his eye, bellowing with sudden laughter. "Aw, I was right, you are the gullible sort."</p><p>Mulder sat back and pursed his lips. "Seems to me you're the gullible one, out here for so long with nothing to show for it."</p><p>"Never I said I wasn't. You get a little piece, something shiny glinting off a rock in the creek… Hard not to hope next time it’ll be real. One day it’ll be my turn, and I reckon I’ll get myself some fancy things like yours, to match my new clothes.”</p><p>Mulder wiped a hand over his face. Jerry’s story was a familiar one. Too familiar. Ten years searching, same as him. It had only been his own good fortune, and the help of others, that kept him from the digging in the dirt like Jerry. A few years from now and Mulder would look the same, would live the same lonely life, if he continued on the same impossible path.</p><p>Giving him his clothes was the least he could do. Perhaps when this was all over, he could get Jerry set up somewhere nice, if he could convince him to stray from his claim for a while.</p><p>With someone else to spend it with, the rest of the day passed bearably. As the day’s light faded and their conversation dwindled, Mulder’s mood lifted, strangely enough. Finding another lost soul in the woods, someone who looked at his life as something worthwhile instead of a hopeless mess gave him some perspective. If he could get through this next bit, things would have to change. He owed it not only to Dana, but to himself.</p><p>When night fell, Jerry bedded down beside the creek, some crabgrass for his cushion, and his old clothes for a pillow. He brought out a tattered blanket from his rucksack and covered himself.</p><p>“You’re welcome to share the cave with me, Jerry, might be a bit warmer.”</p><p>“Used to the cold,” he said. “Don’t you worry about me, Charlie.”</p><p>Mulder shook his head, patting down Justice and feeding him some grain from his saddlebags. Placing his things at the entrance to his shallow cave, he headed in for the night. His bed was his usual uncomfortable slab of rock covered by boughs of pine branches, a thin horse blanket giving him only meager warmth. Jerry’s loud snores rumbling just outside comforted him, reminding him he wasn’t alone. The fire flickered and died as he laid down and stared at the rocks above him, chasing sleep, finding it easier to catch for the first time in a long while.</p><p>***</p><p>He awoke disoriented, in the dead of night. The fire was long extinguished, not even smoke trailing from the burned ashes. It was quiet, too quiet. His hackles rose - something was wrong. He grabbed his revolver and crept out of the cave, keeping quiet. His eyes adjusted to the dark, and far in the distance, under the very faint glow of stars and the sliver of a waxing moon, he saw his horse trotting away, a hunched figure on his back. The saddle perched on the rock outside the cave was gone, as were the rest of his belongings.</p><p>
  <i>Fucking Jerry.</i>
</p><p>“HEY!” he yelled. </p><p>The woods would make a quick escape on horseback nearly impossible, and he was fast. When he caught up, he’d pull Jerry down and throttle him for his attempted theft. A jolt of energy surged through his veins as he ran, his focus on the chase making everything else disappear around him, his quarry growing nearer and nearer.</p><p>Suddenly, he stumbled and fell, a root tripping him up and knocking the air from his lungs. When he recovered, blinking his eyes and getting up on his hands and knees, he saw torchlight from several men on horseback, appearing from behind a rocky slope. They were only about a hundred yards away, on the opposite side of Jerry and his horse, and closing the distance quickly. Mulder fell flat on his belly, crawling towards some thick bushes and a tree nearby.</p><p>“YOU THERE!” One of the men shouted. </p><p>Justice neighed, there was more shouting, horses moving through the underbrush. Mulder held his breath and didn’t dare move. They were far too close for his comfort. Warring with his instincts to flee, he stayed, knowing any movement would reveal his presence. </p><p>When he heard the rustling stop, the glow from their torches no longer advancing towards him, he dared a peek through the heavy foliage. The glint of light off of a badge confirmed it: these were the men hunting him. His heart thumped loudly and he closed his eyes, wrapping his hand around Dana's necklace. For the first time in a long while, he prayed to whatever God would listen. <i>Please let me remain unseen. Please, God, let me escape. Let me see her, one last time.</i></p><p>“You steal that horse?”</p><p>“Naw, it’s mine,” Jerry claimed. “Call ‘im Goldie.”</p><p>“You’re coming with us. Make it quick or we won’t be so nice about it.”</p><p>“I ain’t done nothing wrong. You got no cause to take me in.”</p><p>More rustling, the sounds of a struggle, and the finality of a single gunshot. Mulder didn’t hear what happened next, as he huddled against the tree. Blood roared in his ears. He wondered what sort of God would kill another man to spare his own.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. Dead and Alive</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dana’s fitful mid-day doze was interrupted by a knock at Monica’s office door. She’d been spending most of her time here, of late. Not only because she was comforted by the other woman’s calm presence, but it allowed her to avoid the memories that being in her room conjured.</p><p>“Come,” Monica said, not looking up from her logbook. Her pen scratched furiously along the page as she balanced her books. Dana knew that working with numbers soothed her nerves. They didn’t change sides or betray you like people tended to do.</p><p>“Madam, there’s something...” Walt stepped inside and closed the door softly behind him. He noticed Dana was there and fell silent.</p><p>“Well, what is it, man? Don’t have all day.” Monica peered up over her glasses.</p><p>“I, uh, need to speak with you privately, ma’am.”</p><p>“Nonsense,” Monica said, waving her hand in dismissal. “Out with it.”</p><p>Walt sighed, shifting uncomfortably and avoiding Dana’s gaze. “They’re saying they’ve found him.”</p><p>Dana stood. “Mulder?”</p><p>Walt nodded, but would not look at her. “They, uh…”</p><p>Hope and fear warred within her. If ---</p><p>“They carried him into town on Justice, and they want you to come identify him,” Walt looked at Dana, sadness in his eyes. “He’s dead, ma’am.”</p><p>The words entered her mind but they would not stick. She would not let them. <i>No, no, no...</i></p><p>“We have to go to him, he’ll need our help.”</p><p>“Dana,” Monica said. She was standing as well, paperwork abandoned, looking resigned. “You know you can’t leave.”</p><p>Dana shook her head, dismissing Monica’s words, her concern, with a wave of her hand. Nothing else mattered to her. “Maybe it’s not him.”</p><p>Walt and Monica shared a look. </p><p>“Think about this, honey.” Monica walked over to her. When she reached out to take her hand, Dana pulled away.</p><p>“If it’s him it will be my last chance to see him,” Dana said, furious and determined. She stalked out of the office, a last look behind her. “Are you coming?”</p><p>***</p><p>They rode in silence to the sheriff’s office. Dana’s eyes fixed ahead, anger warming her belly, pushing away anything else. That someone should kill him because of baseless assumptions; a good man, one who would agonize over hurting someone else. She wanted revenge, but knew she would not get it. Not here. Nevertheless, the weight of her revolver rested comfortably in her skirts.</p><p>Outside the office, Dana and Monica stepped off the wagon and approached the small building while Walt waited behind. Several deputies lined the front, drinking openly and cheering their good fortune. Out of the corner of her eye, the familiar sight of Mulder’s buckskin horse caught her attention. She stopped, suddenly not wanting to move inside, to confirm her worst fears.</p><p>Monica took Dana’s arm, pulling her away, staying close by her side.</p><p>Inside the sparse and tidy office, Sheriff Doggett sat behind his desk. When he saw the two women enter, he waved out the other men conversing loudly around him and stood. His uniform was neat, shiny silver badge placed precisely on the lapel of his jacket, his moustache and beard combed and clean. His demeanor was direct and no-nonsense.</p><p>“Ladies,” Doggett said. He tipped his hat at both of them. His gaze lingered on Dana as she glared at him, lifting her chin and pursing her lips. “I do not believe I’ve had the pleasure of your acquaintance, Miss…?”</p><p>“My cousin, Miss Schaeffer.” Monica said, squeezing Dana’s arm to keep her quiet.</p><p>“I see,” he said, frowning and eyeing Dana carefully. “Some water or coffee?”</p><p>“We’re here on a specific purpose, sir,” Monica said. “I’d just as soon have that over and done with.” </p><p>He nodded and led them to the back. A small, dark room held a single empty jail cell. Across from it was a long table, with a sheet-covered body lying atop it.</p><p>“Give us a minute,” Monica said, staring down the sheriff until he let them be, closing the door behind him. She stepped backwards, close but giving Dana the space to do what she needed.</p><p>Dana stood there, frozen. The body under the sheet looked so small. Insignificant. She swallowed and bit her lip. She should be afraid, but she only felt lost. A single ship out at sea, no breeze, no stars to guide her; calm blue waters surrounding her in every direction. If she moved, would she be closer to land or farther away?</p><p>“I don’t know if I can,” she said. Monica stepped forward, but Dana held her back with a glance. “But I have to, don’t I?”</p><p>Her hands trembled as she clasped them together, closing her eyes and praying. <i>Please God, if this is your will, give me strength. Lend me some purpose to my suffering. And if this is him, please let him finally know peace.</i></p><p>As if someone else was moving her hand, she lifted the corner of the sheet, and saw the body underneath. The clothes were familiar, but everything else was not.</p><p>“It is not him.”</p><p>Was it she who said those words? She felt lifted above, living outside of herself. Monica rushed forwards, holding her up as she swayed in place. Was this real, or only her hopes?</p><p>“I told you he has unnatural luck about him, Dana,” Monica whispered. “Now be quiet as we leave.”</p><p>Monica kept her arm around her, leading her from the small room. Sheriff Doggett leaned against his desk and looked up at them when they emerged. He folded over a parchment he’d been examining, placing it in his jacket pocket. </p><p>“Your cousin seems shaken,” he said. Dana felt his eyes on her, but she could not bring herself to cover her face. Her lingering anger brought her back, and she stared at the sheriff defiantly. A man was dead, not even the right one, thank God, but they celebrated it. </p><p>“It was him, sheriff,” Monica said. Her voice did not waver, and she did not blink. “My cousin was very disturbed to hear about what happened to you. It has set her mind at ease that a fiend isn’t out there to molest other women; though I think I speak for the both of us when we are saddened that it had to end with violence.”</p><p>“Violence isn’t always the answer, but it is often the one we are left with,” Doggett said. “Though we’ll have to follow up with Miss Fowley to make sure of our identification.”</p><p><i>Oh, God</i>, Dana thought. Her heart sped up and she bowed her head to hide her worried face.</p><p>“I will save you the trip, sheriff,” Monica said. “I heard she left town a few days past, back home to her family. Seems as though her lenders came calling for her debts, and she fled rather than make good on them. Unless you think this would warrant a trip to Kansas?”</p><p>Doggett stared at Monica. “How convenient.”</p><p>“You think I have reason to want her gone?” Monica asked, her voice smooth and sweet.</p><p>“You seem to know quite a bit about many things, Ms. Hall.”</p><p>“The nature of my business,” Monica said. “If you would be more willing to work with me, instead of regarding me with suspicion, perhaps it would not come as a surprise.”</p><p>With that, Monica continued out of the office, her arm still linked with Dana’s. She felt the eyes of the sheriff and every deputy on her, but found she did not care. Mulder was alive, and Monica assured he was no longer being hunted. Everything else did not matter.</p><p>***</p><p>When they returned to the Gilded Hall, Dana went straight to her room while Monica and Walt informed everyone else of the good news. She found it just as unbearable to see happy faces as she did sympathetic ones. He was not here yet, not in front of her in the flesh, she would not celebrate. </p><p>The night fell, patrons arrived and made it easier for Dana to hide away. She changed into her chemise and slipped under her quilt. Indulging herself, she took Mulder’s pillow and clutched it to her chest, feeling safe, finally, to do such a silly thing. She drifted off to sleep, imagining that she held him.</p><p>A knock at her door in the deepest hour of night awoke her. Normally slow to wake, she found her eyes wide and her feet on the floor in only a few seconds. </p><p>“Dana?” Melvin whispered.</p><p>She donned her dressing gown and stepped into her slippers before opening the door an inch. Melvin stood there in his long johns, his hair sticking up and his eyes bleary from sleep.</p><p>“Mulder’s here. In the bathing room.” Melvin grinned at her. “Told me to come get’cha.”</p><p>A wide smile broke out on her face. Melvin smiled back, smoothing his hair and clearing his throat before turning back to his own room. She wrapped her gown tightly around her and, heedless of the impropriety, left her room. It was the time of night only a few hours before dawn. In the empty dining room, the only sounds accompanying her soft footfalls was the ticking of the large grandfather clock in the hallway. </p><p>She paused outside the door and looked backwards into the darkness of the hall behind her, dimly lit by a few wall-mounted lamps, their wicks burning low. She laid her hand on the door and shivered, the warmth of the smooth wood seeping into her skin. Splashes on the other side of the door broke her out of her daze, and she opened it.</p><p>The room was brighter than outside, but the soft glow of lamplight was still subdued. Mulder sat in one of the large copper tubs in the middle of the room, his bare chest glistening with water as he bathed. His hair was slicked with soap and she saw the remnants of shaving cream on his face. When he saw her, his face split into a wide smile, his eyes shining with warmth.</p><p>“Hey,” he said.</p><p>Dana found herself stuck, again. She stood by the closed door, her back flush against the wood. </p><p>“Hi.”</p><p>As they looked at each other, Dana unmoving and Mulder trapped in his bath, his smile faltered and fell. </p><p>“You okay, sweetheart?”</p><p>She bowed her head, peering at him through a few strands of her hair that escaped from her braid. This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. When he returned, she was supposed to be happy. Run into his arms. Her heart healed and full. Instead, the terror she should have felt at the sheriff’s office, lifting the sheet, came a few hours late.</p><p>The water surged against the tub and spattered against the floor as Mulder moved to get out, to go to her.</p><p>“Stay, please,” she said. “I need a minute.”</p><p>More water hit the floor in Mulder’s haste to sit down. He leaned forwards, though, and she felt his pull, but there was one within her that was stronger. </p><p>Would this be her future? Having him for a week, until he took off once again, risking himself for his futile search? Not knowing if he was alive? Her tears would not come, pausing in her throat. She wasn’t sure she could do it again. Didn’t know how to tell him.</p><p>“I had to identify a body today, that everyone thought was you.”</p><p>“Dana--”</p><p>“I think, maybe… we should reconsider things,” she said, her nails digging into her fists, trying to dam the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm her. If only she could return to not knowing him, to before he stumbled into her room those few short months ago. Back to being the emotionless husk of a woman, doing what was necessary.</p><p>“You don’t really mean that,” Mulder whispered.</p><p>She looked up at him, nodding. Scrambling to attach herself to her decision like it was her only choice.</p><p>Mulder’s jaw clenched and he sat back in the tub. He sunk down, his knees poking out as his head submerged, the soap spreading outwards, then breaking and dissolving as he rose from the water again. He whipped his head back, heavy streams of water flying behind him. His eyes pierced into hers, more gold than green in the lantern-light, something besides grief within them.</p><p>“Wash my back?” he asked.</p><p>If her resolve was like the thick columns of spruce supporting this building, unbending and everlasting, his was the steel bars of the jail cell she’d so recently visited. She yielded under its strength. </p><p>Taking a bristle brush from a nearby table, she sat beside him, avoiding his gaze. He did not reach out to touch her, though she saw the tension in his arms as he held himself back. Lathering the brush with soap, she began to scrub, working mechanically to remove the layers of dirt and grime on his broad back.</p><p>He leaned forward to give her easier access. His vertebrae, perfectly aligned in the center. Strong and solid. Encased by his taut muscle and soft skin. She recalled their names as she bathed him, the simple exercise more welcome than thoughts of grasping at his flesh when they made love, the marks she left, tracing them afterwards. How proud he was to receive them.</p><p>“I knew the man they killed. Jerry,” he said.</p><p>Dana remained silent, not sure what she would say if she spoke. First thoracic vertebra, second, third... Her breathing slowed, and she ran the brush along his shoulder. Scapula. Trapezius, deltoid.</p><p>“He’d been out hunting for gold for ten years, nothing to show for it,” he said. She grasped the edge of the tub so she could reach his opposite shoulder, and he moved his hand near hers, grazing her knuckles with his thumb. Jolts of electricity traveled up her arm, and she paused in her scrubbing, withdrawing her hand and shifting out of his reach.</p><p>“I cannot take what happened back, Dana. But I can try to do better. I want to.”</p><p>She nodded, biting her lip and scrubbing more vigorously. The dirt fell away easily under her ministrations, revealing the smooth plane of his skin. If only there was a similar solution to her tattered soul, the ugly thoughts that tarnished the love she felt for him.</p><p>“I realized something out there. I have been on this impossible search for so long, that I did not know any different. I let it consume me.” His voice was ragged, his back heaving under the weight of his words. “You changed all of that. Showed me that my life can be full of something worthwhile again, that I might deserve something beyond despair and loneliness. I do not want to go back to who I was.”</p><p>“I would not ask you to give up your sister, for me. I know how important that is to you.” One last small speck of dirt stubbornly stuck to his ribcage. She leaned forward to reach it, but he took her wrist and held her back. No force, no strength, just his skin against hers. She looked up at him, his face so close to hers she could smell the mint from the toothpaste on his breath.</p><p>“No, Dana. You are the only thing that matters to me. I don’t know if I can be perfect or if I will be able to resist running off again. But I want to try. You are worth it, and you make me think that I am worth it, too.” </p><p>Her resolve crumbled. Running away would not save herself from misery, if would only cause more, and not just for herself. The brush fell from her grasp into the water. She moved her hand up his arm to wrap around his neck, drawing circles in the damp strands of his hair at the nape of his neck.</p><p>“You are worth it, Mulder.” She kissed his jaw, his cheek, his brow. Memorizing the feel of his face against her lips once more. He sighed against her, putting his own hand around her neck and leaning his forehead against hers. “I am sorry for wanting to give up. I just…”</p><p>“I know.”</p><p>“This is a lot,” she said, nuzzling her nose against his.</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>They sat like that, for minutes. Their breathy sighs and the occasional splash of water the only intrusion into the space they made for each other.</p><p>“Water’s getting cold,” Mulder said, pulling away so he could look at her. “I can warm up another bath. Join me?”</p><p>Dana eyed the grey water, his chest and arms speckled with dirt. “You are still filthy. Another time.”</p><p>He splashed her with a bit of the water, and she yelped as the cold droplets landed against her skin. “I will hold you to that.”</p><p>“Your back is clean.”</p><p>Mulder’s eyes waggled. “I should get you to work on the rest of me, then.”</p><p>“Later,” she said. Her hand trailed along his collarbone, coming away with a fingerful of dirt. She raised her eyebrow. “Much later, I think.”</p><p>Mulder laughed, a sound she did not know she needed to hear. He grasped the back of her head and pulled her close. Her mouth opened under the softest pressure of his lips, and she sighed. Soft and gentle, their lips slid against one another. Their last kiss had been frenzied and desperate. The fear of not knowing if it would be their last. She felt tears burn behind her eyes, relief that this was no longer goodbye, but a new beginning.</p><p>When he pulled away, she was tempted to take him up on his offer, cold water, dirt and all. </p><p>“Go,” he said, interrupting her reverie. “You underestimate the speed of a man who wishes to express the fullness of his ardor to his beloved.”</p><p>“Only his thoroughness.”</p><p>“I would not call myself half-hearted when it comes to you. Would you?” His eyes burned into hers, his finger trailing down the low neckline of her chemise, to the shadows between her breasts. It lingered there, until a flush crept up her chest and rested on her cheeks. He withdrew, leaning back against the tub, watching her beneath half-closed lids. His outward calm belied the intensity she was intimately familiar with, resting just beneath.</p><p>She shook her head, smiling. <i>Definitely not.</i></p><p>Mulder took the brush that floated next to him and lathered it with soap. His gaze never left her as she stood and stepped lightly to the door. She did not linger, her fear scattered away. For now, at least. Her heart squeezed. She did not hope, she knew.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0024"><h2>24. Never leave</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <b>Content warning: this chapter is rated M (Mature) for sexual situations</b>
</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It wasn’t until he finished bathing that Mulder realized there were no towels. He debated donning his dirty clothes, but one sniff made him realize that was not a good idea. Dana would kick him from her room if he went there smelling even faintly like that.</p><p>So, he grabbed his hat and the golden chain from his vest pocket, and peeked out the door. Never had a hallway seemed so long. The lights, while dim, seemed like daylight. It was quiet, no one should be around. He held his breath and entered the hall, holding his hat in front of himself. </p><p>He was halfway there when he heard the side door to the stables opening, and footsteps coming his way, in the exact direction he needed to go.</p><p>Hiding behind the large clock, he watched as Walt stomped through the hallway, entering the dining room and setting up at his usual table in the corner. He leaned back in his chair and tipped his hat over his face. It was unusual for him to be here this time of day, but a lot of things could have changed in the days he’d been gone. He hurt to think about all he had missed. When he heard the rumbling sound of Walt’s snoring, he sighed in relief and continued on his way.</p><p>Confidence had a way of tripping him up when he least expected it.</p><p>Forgetting about the squeaky floorboard about five feet from Dana’s door, he stepped on it, wincing at the noise. He’d left a trail of wet footprints, and when he stepped backwards, he slipped and stumbled into the lamp on the wall. Managing to catch it before it fell, by dropping to a knee, he placed it back on a nearby table, but he wasn’t so lucky about keeping quiet. </p><p>“Who’s there?” Walt whispered harshly.</p><p>Mulder stood still, his hat a few steps too far for him to fetch it before Walt stomped into view.</p><p>“Mulder.”</p><p>“Uh, yeah.” Mulder placed his hands awkwardly in front of himself, and smiled tightly at the older man. Walt’s face reddened, right up to the top of his bald head, at the sight of a completely nude Mulder mere feet from Dana’s door. Even his stubborn obliviousness could see what his intentions were. </p><p>“You’re wet,” Walt grumbled. He reached downwards and grabbed Mulder’s hat, keeping his distance as he handed it back.</p><p>“Uh, thanks. There’s, um, no towels,” Mulder said lamely, covering himself again. He shivered as Walt stared at him, eyes dark and menacing. He had a way about him that made one feel two feet tall, an insignificant ruffian up to no good. In Mulder’s case, Walt usually wasn’t wrong.</p><p>Walt grumbled and headed back to his chair, pulling his own hat forcefully against his face and resuming his original position, presumably back to his slumber. From the tension in his shoulders, Mulder could see he was pissed. He’d have to remember to buy the guy a bottle of his favorite whiskey, or maybe he could just avoid him for the rest of his life. Either way seemed like the thing to do.</p><p>Mulder stepped around the creaky floorboard and entered Dana’s room without knocking. He closed the door softly behind him and locked it, looking around for something to dry himself off with before he slipped into bed beside her. </p><p>On the bed, Dana slumbered atop the quilt. He hadn’t been gone long, but Dana usually fell asleep quickly and slept like a rock. He admired that about her, thinking back to the times they laid in bed after their lovemaking, a story burrowing out of him, only to find her drooling on his shoulder and snoring.</p><p>He watched her, mesmerized. The room was dimly lit with the low burning wicks of her two lanterns, shadows dancing as the light flickered. Clad in her thin chemise, the hem rested halfway up her thigh, exposing most of her creamy, white legs. Her face was peaceful and relaxed, a faint hint of a smile lifting the corner of her mouth. Would be a shame to disturb her.</p><p>A smile crept on his face. </p><p>Jumping on the bed, Mulder pressed his wet, naked body against her warm, scantily clad one. He silenced her shriek by kissing her, laughing against her mouth. She wiggled next to him, pushing him away and protesting as she pressed her own kisses against his face and giggled.</p><p>“Mulder!” she whispered loudly. “You big oaf!”</p><p>He nuzzled up to her, rubbing his clasped hand along her back. “There weren’t any towels.”</p><p>She shook her head, biting her lip in an attempt to suppress her mirth. Rolling away, he brought his hand in between them and opened it. Her necklace, shining faintly in the low light.</p><p>Taking it from him, her face clouded over. She blinked, tightening her fist around her necklace and banishing it from sight. Looking back at him with a smile, she swept her thumb along his chest, and her eyes narrowed.</p><p>“I hope you are clean.”</p><p>“Feel free to examine me,” he said, wagging his eyebrows and pulling away, laying on his back beside her.</p><p>Dana patted his chest. Her eyes darkened as she dragged them across his nude form, head to toe. Leaning up on an elbow, he looked at her himself, her gown enticingly translucent where he’d pressed his wet body against her.  She turned away from him, getting up on the opposite side of the bed and moving to her desk.</p><p>“I think we need more light, to do a proper examination,” she said. She placed her necklace on the surface, arranging it just so, then turned the key on the lantern. The flame caught, flaring up and bathing the room in bright light. </p><p>“Y-yes, doctor.”</p><p>Dana’s head shifted towards him as he spoke, and she raised her eyebrow. Mulder’s cock twitched against his leg. The erection that he had earlier in the bath, that fled with cold water and the nerve-wracking trek in the hallway, began to return. Staring at him boldly, her tongue peeked out of her mouth, licked her top lip. She floated back to his side of the bed, reaching over to open the reservoir on the other lamp. Hovering beside and above him, lit from both sides by the bright lanterns, she glowed. Her white lace chemise, the cloud of her hair untangling from her braid, her fair skin. </p><p>
  <i>She is divine. An angel. I am in love with a Goddamn angel.</i>
</p><p>As if she heard him, her mouth lifted in a small smile. She pulled her gaze from his face and down his body once more, this time her fingers joining their journey. He had scrubbed his skin until it was nearly raw, digging under his fingernails and even behind his ears. When she touched him, so soft he could barely feel it, he thought his skin should squeak. It did not, but he let out something similar to that when she touched his growing erection, then moved down, down, down until she stood at the end of the bed between his legs.</p><p>She caught his eyes with her own and nodded. “Very good.”</p><p>Voiceless, he nodded and smiled, pinned to the bed under her scrutiny.</p><p>She reached downward and grasped the hem of her chemise, revealing the rest of her milky skin as she peeled it up and off. He blinked slowly, entranced. Gazing at him the entire time, she unbraided her hair, slowly and precisely fingering the strands so they did not tangle. Standing there in the bright light of the room, letting him look while she did so. Letting him. </p><p>His erection grew harder without a single touch. Her perfect slim body, rosy nipples pebbled in the center of her small round breasts. The nestle of auburn curls at the apex of her thighs. The strands of her crimson hair that rested over her porcelain skin. It was the eyes, though, burning blue, watching him with affection even with the absolute control she wielded over him. He groaned and laid his head back, closing his eyes. He thought the dampness of the bathwater had been steamed away.</p><p>“Am I pleasing to you?” she asked, voice scratchy and low, a cadence reserved only for him.</p><p>“Oh, yes,” he croaked, looking at her again and nodding furiously.</p><p>Dana smiled impishly, the dimple appearing in her cheek. Then, she touched him. Gripping his feet, she pushed his legs apart. Slid her hands along his legs, over his thighs, before pausing at his erection. She raised her eyebrows, her smile widening as she peered at him, then bent downwards, stroking him with her hands before taking him in her mouth. </p><p>“Oh, God,” his head fell back again.</p><p>She giggled around him, and the vibrations sent a jolt straight through the core of his body, the hair on his arms and legs rising, tingling along his scalp. As she continued to suckle and caress him, it took all of his self-control to remain still, twisting the quilt in his fists. Releasing him with a wet pop, she took one last swipe of his erection from base to tip, then crawled upwards. Her tongue traced along his abdomen, nuzzling his navel, and her fingers feathered along his ribcage. As he blinked back the haze of his desire, she claimed his mouth with her own. </p><p>He rubbed her arms and along the delicate wings of her shoulder bones. It was not fair he could not touch her everywhere at once. She pulled away to breathe, and he pressed fervent kisses across the freckles along her brow, her nose, her cheeks. </p><p>“Love you,” he said, cupping her face and caressing her cheeks with his thumbs. </p><p>He looked into her eyes. Clear and blue, dancing with a smile. Love and desire for him. Something deeper, though, underneath. She was tired, sadder. Because of what he’d done.</p><p>Before the guilt overwhelmed him, she crushed her lips against his, slipping her tongue into his mouth. Her thumbs flicked over his nipples. Her nails scratched his chest. She grinded her center along his erection, already wet and warm and ready. The self-hatred he felt brewing up within him scattered away under her touch, at her devotion. </p><p>Gripping her small waist, he lifted her upwards. She wiggled against him and laughed, her breasts falling against his cheek. </p><p>Pressing his face against the pillowy softness of her chest, he inhaled deeply. She was sweet like roses, or some sort of pretty flower, and something else. Just her. The musk of her desire threaded its way through, mingling with her other scent. Nuzzling her breast, he kneaded the other with his hand. He circled around her nipple with his tongue, then took the hardened peak into his mouth. </p><p>The combination of her scent and the taste of her skin, so familiar and yet something he nearly lost forever, caused tears to burn behind his eyes. A stone formed in his gut. He kissed her harder.</p><p>“Mulder... yes...” she rasped. She held herself above him, straddling his torso and leaning on her elbows, so he could be free with his hands. </p><p>He moved his hand to her waist, grasping her buttocks. Squeezing, a light pinch earned him a gasp and an arch of her back. Moving his hand between them, he cupped her between her legs, sliding his finger along her folds.</p><p>“Yes...” she sighed, pushing herself against his hand. </p><p>With his face pressed to her breasts, his hand moved against the wiry thatch of hair and soft flesh of her sensitive center. Squirming and panting above him, covering him entirely. </p><p>“So beautiful, sweetheart,” he whispered, muffled against her skin.</p><p>She tore away from him, her breath ragged. Eyes half-closed, worrying her swollen lower lip, she pressed her forehead against his. Sheltering them with the curtain of her hair. She shivered.</p><p>He slipped a hand around her neck. </p><p>“Good?” he asked.</p><p>She withdrew slightly, nodding. No tears, no sadness. A small smile.</p><p>“I am just glad you are here,” she said, leaning forward and brushing her lips back and forth against his own, in an almost chaste kiss. His hands settled in the small of her back. He traced her soft skin, the curve of her buttocks, the solidity of her spine. Not a dream, not a hope. She was here, loving him. </p><p>
  <i>Dana.</i>
</p><p>She sat up, straddling his thighs. Her fingers danced along his chest, grazing his nipples, moving downwards. He held his breath, heart thumping in anticipation. Peering at him through her lashes, her smile turned into a mischievous grin and she grasped his erection. She stroked him a few times then angled herself over him, placing him at her entrance. </p><p>She held his gaze and paused. Then sunk down, slowly, eyes fluttering but open, watching. Deep blue. He was drowning, could not breathe. She was hot and tight and perfect. Her breath hitched as she finally encompassed him entirely, and he exhaled. Her nails dug into his shoulders, giving him focus. </p><p>
  <i>She is the only thing that matters. </i>
</p><p>Her soft thighs pressed against his sides and he held her, cradling her hips, as she began to move. </p><p>He brushed his thumbs near her navel as she rocked above him. Letting her set the pace. His hands lured to the soft skin of her belly, then lower. That place she loved to be touched, just above the auburn hair where they were now connected. Then, he swept his hand up the center of her chest, the flat of his palm splayed across the entire width of her body. He caressed her breasts, feeling their weight, flicking his thumb over her nipples. </p><p>“Harder,” she demanded, clamping onto his shoulders even tighter. This time, though, the pain inflamed his desire. Warmth spread outwards from his groin, tingling along his limbs. </p><p>He pinched her nipples and she moaned loudly. Past worrying about whether someone would hear them. This was their world. Only them, in this bed, loving each other. </p><p>
  <i>Nothing else mattered.</i>
</p><p>He fought against the lure of his release. Turning his head away was not enough. His thoughts, the feel of her surrounding him, the scent of their lovemaking. The coiling tension inside his groin, tightening his balls. She needed more, and he would not leave her behind. </p><p>As his thumb skimmed across her center, she faltered above him. She paused, gasping for breath. One of her hands gripped the back of his head, forcing him to look at her. When their eyes locked, he knew what she wanted.</p><p>Encircling her entire waist with both of his hands, he began to thrust up into her, holding her in place. She shifted, moving closer to him, her forearms resting against his chest and her face only inches from his own. </p><p>“Ohhh… j-just… like that…” she gasped. </p><p>Her hands scrambled at his chest, her face twisting as she climbed. Higher and higher. </p><p>“Please… Mulder...” she said, resting her forehead on his shoulder, his thrusts rocking her forward. “D-don’t… please… don’t stop.”</p><p>“Never.” </p><p>He pressed his mouth to her temple, barely a kiss. It was incredible. The feeling of being inside her. Her skin against his lips, sweat-slicked and sweet. Her hair tumbling around them and tickling his neck. Her throaty voice. </p><p>“Almost… p-please…” she begged. He moved one of his hands from her hip, touching her at her center, near where they were joined. <i>Anything, anything, please let me bring her there</i>. He prayed his sloppy caresses would be enough.</p><p>“Yes, baby… ohh… Yes!” she yelled, her walls trembling around him. The tension in her face softening, a blissful smile. </p><p><i>Beautiful</i>.</p><p>He held her, returning his hands to her waist as she radiated above him, her back arching, crimson hair flying backwards. He thrust gently, drawing circles with his thumbs. Watching her, he felt as though everything was right again.</p><p>As she fell from her climax, trembling limbs holding him close, pulse drumming against her neck, he found his own release. Could not let go until he watched her fly. He screamed her name, cursed and thanked God. Moving in her a few more times, the darkness took him, blissful oblivion. Red hair, creamy freckled skin, blue eyes. Swollen lips that called to him, freed him.</p><p>His next memories were of Dana lying atop him, her face pressed to his neck, murmuring to him. She was still coming back to herself, between here and there, her limp body heavy against his own. He drew her closer, nuzzling her neck as the clouds lifted from his mind.</p><p>“Never leave,” she mumbled. Words that she would not remember, that came from deep within, a place of truth.</p><p>It sunk in, then, what she meant. </p><p><i>‘Never leave,’</i> she’d said. And before: <i>‘Happy that you are here’.</i></p><p>He felt like he’d been kicked in the gut. Pain washed over him, realizing what she went through when he was gone. He’d been happy to see her, so intent on his own revelations and excited to tell her of them that he hadn’t considered it. Not entirely.</p><p>She had to identify a body that she thought was him. If their roles were reversed, could he have done such a thing? Without utterly falling apart? He would destroy himself, but not before tearing apart everything around him.</p><p>He wrapped his arms around her even tighter, the thought of her leaving this earth as incomprehensible as time flying backwards. She’d lived that, had the strength to go through with it. He understood her fears, now. Hated himself once again.</p><p>He moved her so that she was underneath him, and held her, pressing his face into her chest. Stirring fully conscious, her hands moved purposefully, stroking his damp hair.</p><p>A sob tore from his chest, and the tears came.</p><p>“Mulder…?”</p><p>“I’m so sorry.”</p><p>“Oh, baby,” she crooned, rocking him against her. “It’s okay. Shhh… It’s okay, now.”</p><p>He curled around her, weeping. Adding his tears to the dewy sweat coating her skin. He did not know for how long, but she held him, whispering against his skin, comforting him with the gentle touch of her hands and lips. Her touch only absent enough to wrap the quilt around his shivering form, cocooning them together. </p><p>Her words floated in his mind like a balm, but underneath, lurking and grasping onto him, darkness waited. He would not survive without her, and yet he’d forced her into just that position. Left her to pursue something ten years distant. When she lived day to day wondering if her life or freedom would be taken from her. How could he live with himself? How could she still love him?</p><p>He marked her skin with teartracks. The bedclothes damp and the air around them humid. His eyes were sore and his chest ached. But finally, he slept. Fitful dreams, shadows and loss, haunted him. But she was there, even deep in slumber, to pull him back.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0025"><h2>25. Quiet morning, interrupted</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <b>Content warning: this chapter is rated M (Mature) for sexual situations</b>
</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She was floating, underwater. Sheltered and protected. Gliding towards sunlight as it called to her, she broke  through the surface above and took a blissful breath of air into her lungs.</p><p>Consciousness. Her bed. And Mulder between her legs, his soft hair tickling her thighs, his morning growth of beard scratching delightfully against her sensitive flesh. And his tongue. </p><p>“Ohhhh…” she moaned.</p><p>Mulder peeked up at her, resting his arms on her legs and holding them firmly apart. “Good morning.”</p><p>“Mmmm… don’t stop, baby,” she purred, watching him through half-closed eyes. </p><p>He grinned, her wetness glistening on his lips and chin. His hair was adorably tousled, and a wave of tenderness overcame her. He was hers, utterly; as she was his. Languidly stretching her arms above her head and letting the remaining bedclothes fall away from her nude body, she smiled as he stared at her, catching her on fire with his heated gaze.</p><p>Smiling, she closed her eyes and let herself drift, as he dipped down to her center once more. The fogginess cleared from her mind with every swipe of his tongue, replaced by the slow build of desire. Their lovemaking upon waking reminded her of a warm updraft carrying her steadily skywards. And waking already being lifted towards her release, her skin pebbled with gooseflesh, his warm breath on her thighs... Oh, this was something else entirely. </p><p>His fingers joined his mouth, spreading her open. Warmth bloomed in her chest as he suckled her. The deep rumble of his voice, vibrating against her as he groaned in his own pleasure. </p><p>“Oh, more… Mul…” she sighed, her breath hitching as tendrils of flame traveled from her groin up to her chest. </p><p>Sliding her hands down to caress her breasts, she grazed across one of her puckered nipples, before raking her fingers through his hair. When he circled her sensitive nub with his tongue, her core throbbed, tears perched at the corners of her eyes. She arched her back, thrusting herself against him. Bit her lip to muffle her cries. </p><p>Suddenly, a noise at her door. Panting, overwhelmed with pure sensation, she struggled against the ecstasy that pinned her to the bed. </p><p>“Not now!” Mulder shouted. </p><p>Somewhere in the back of her mind, she heard footsteps receding, and silence. He resumed his attentions, gliding his hands up and down the tops of her thighs. </p><p>“Good boy,” she murmured, twisting her hands in the bedclothes and splaying her legs, knees bent and feet wiggling on his shoulders. He laughed against her skin, and rubbed his nose against the junction of her thigh. Loose and relaxed from sleep, she climbed steadily towards her release as he licked and caressed her center. </p><p>The sea returned; she was drowning. Surrounded. But this time, not by the cloak of unconsciousness, but the slick heat of her pleasure. Of him. His tongue sliding over her folds, his mouth sucking her clitoris, his fingers inside of her, and his hands caressing the skin of her legs and buttocks. He was there, everywhere. As if the very ends of her fingernails held his essence. The timber of his voice as he enjoyed her drove deep into her soul. </p><p>It was almost unbearable. Her lungs were near to bursting and her heart pounded in her chest. Her knees rose around his head and she pointed her toes into his back, feeling the solid ridge of his spine. Not a dream. He leaned his arms on her thighs, keeping them open, and curled his fingers inside of her. </p><p>
  <i>Oh, God!</i>
</p><p>She did not fly, but sank, deep down into the lightless depths of the ocean’s chasms. The pressure enclosed her on all sides as she folded in on herself and then expanded, scattering. White light at the edges of her vision as she came. Pure bliss.</p><p>She blinked, slowly, as she came back to herself. Dazed in the brightness of the early morning sun that shone through her window. The twisted cotton bedclothes underneath her heated skin. Mulder now lying beside her, his hands drawing circles around her abdomen. His eyes, full of love and wonder.</p><p>She curled up next to him, her lids heavy. Feeling drunk and sleepy in the aftermath of her climax. Closing her eyes and resting against his chest, his hands traced along her ribcage, over her arms. His touch was gentle, unassuming, yet it reignited the fire in her belly. He was warm, solid. Smelled so good. She nuzzled into him, tasting his salty skin. </p><p>Pressing closer, drawn to him as a moth to a flame, she felt the hard length of his erection against her hip. He moaned, his mouth pressed to the top of her head. She grasped him, stroking his engorged length, silk encased steel. </p><p>“Dana,” he panted.</p><p>She looked upwards, pulling him down into a languid kiss as she continued to touch him. Whirled her thumb along the tip of his erection. Nibbled his plush lower lip. Threaded her hand through the hair at the nape of his neck. </p><p>He touched her as if she would break. His hands feathered delicately over her back and palmed the sides of her breasts. His thumb flitted over her nipple, then darted away. Teasing and gentle, despite how hard he was in her hand. A deliciously sharp pang throbbed between her thighs at the thought of how intensely he desired her. She groaned into his mouth and lifted her leg to slide her center against him.</p><p>Everything was quiet except for hushed moans, the rasp of hands over skin, and of lips sliding against each other. Not wanting to disturb their lovemaking with anything that would remind them of the world outside. As if this was still a dream, and they could live here forever, shutting out everything else.</p><p>Dana turned around, and he curved around her back. She twisted to look back at him, thrusting her bottom into his groin. His erection slid against her, and they both groaned, breathless.</p><p>He wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close. He trailed kisses along her jawline, the ache between her thighs deepening as he nuzzled underneath her ear. </p><p>“I won’t leave,” he whispered, taking her earlobe in his mouth and sucking on it. “I promise.”</p><p>“I believe you,” she said, squeezing his arm and weaving her fingers through his. Pale skin and golden, both aglow in the warm light of morning. He hugged her close, then slid his hand down her side, dipping between her legs. Always, always making sure she was ready. Her heart clenched. </p><p>She parted her legs and he adjusted himself behind her. Slid his erection along her folds, then pressed slowly inside of her. She arched backwards, desperate to complete their coupling. To have him within her entirely. It could not ever be enough. His fingers clasped her hip, his thumb against the base of her spine and his fingers sinuating around her navel. </p><p>His breath puffed against her neck, and he was finally, completely within her. Exhaling shakily, she turned her head to face him. Head bowed, his long, dark lashes framing his reverent gaze. A whispering, unmoving slide of his mouth over the slope of her shoulder, then his lips greeted hers.</p><p>His hand slid upwards, massaging her breast. Sighing into his mouth, she began to rock in tandem with his own movements, as if time did not matter. </p><p>
  <i>We have forever, don't we?</i>
</p><p>With each gentle thrust, she felt as though she would become undone. His strong frame braced her from behind, holding her tightly against him. She held him tighter still, as though skin to skin was inadequate. She wanted to crawl inside of him entirely. </p><p>As his movements quickened, her hand reached between her legs, circling her clitoris. His forearm pressed between her breasts and his hand curled around her neck, trailing his thumb across her jaw. Nudging her face towards his so he could look into her eyes. Possessing her. </p><p>Ragged breaths, between whispered endearments of yes and please and more. His arm tensed against her chest. The sweep of his hand as he threaded his fingers through her hair. The unbearable stretch of time as she crested, reaching for her release. An impossible distance, but this time, with him at her side. His muscles went rigid as his warmth spilled into her. Squeezing her eyes shut, she flew over the edge, trembling in his solid embrace. </p><p>Coming back to herself, his body still wrapped around her, she felt as if this moment would last forever. Being near him, loving him. Feeling safe and treasured. She sighed, hugging his arm against her chest and wiggling closer. </p><p>She should drift off again, take the morning to lie against him and enjoy his closeness after so long apart. But her eyes would not close. She remembered. Mulder sobbing against her late into the night. Heedless of her words and seemingly unaware of her presence, until she moved her hand away. Then he clutched at her, greedy for her touch. She was not sure who slept first, or if he slept at all. </p><p>Twisting her head to look at him, she saw his half-lidded gaze and a tender smile lifting his mouth. She smiled back at him, tentatively. Wondering if he needed to be put together, or if the night, and his tears, had done the work already.</p><p>“You still love me,” he said. It was not a question, but he stared intently at her, needing an answer.</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>“Because you are a good man,” she said. She turned around so she faced him, and drew her hand along his cheek. There was more, so much more, but the words were stuck in her throat. She wanted to scream them at him, make him believe; and yet, another part of her wanted to flee at the very thought. So she did nothing, and the emptiness of her silence filled her with shame. </p><p>He so easily loved her. Told her not only with his eyes and touch what she meant to him, but with his words. So many times these past weeks she chose to kiss him instead of speaking, finding it easy to tell him with her body while she locked away everything else inside. How he made her feel human again. How he treasured her intelligence instead of dismissing her. How she knew she would be his for the rest of her life. All he needed was to know. Why was it so hard to speak of it? </p><p>“I wish you would know it,” she said. “How special you are. And not just to me.”</p><p>He pressed his forehead against hers. Wrapping his arm around her back, circling her shoulder blades with the tips of his fingers, he exhaled slowly. She pressed her other hand to the center of his chest, holding it there. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat calmed her nerves. </p><p>“I wish I could be better at this.” She licked her lips and cleared her throat, her mouth suddenly dry.</p><p>“You are perfect.”</p><p>She pulled away and looked at him, needing him to understand the seriousness of her words. He trailed his thumb over her bottom lip, but did not speak. Watching and waiting.</p><p>“Mulder, I feel--”</p><p>Loud, insistent knocks at the door interrupted her. </p><p>“Dana. Fox. We need to talk,” Monica said, not waiting for a response, her voice clipped. Heavy footsteps faded as she walked away, expecting no argument. </p><p>One interruption could be forgotten. Another, and from Monica herself, had them both scrambling from bed, hastily cleaning themselves and donning their clothes. Dana knew it could only be one thing. Her brothers. The idea floated in the air between them, unspoken and threatening. Would they not even have a day of peace, before everything fell apart?</p><p>Retrieving a clean set of his clothes from his trunk, he put them on, swiped his hand through his hair and he was ready. Dana, however, was still pulling up her petticoats. She huffed, pursing her lips at the unfairness of mens and womens clothing. </p><p>“Some assistance?” she said, peering at him in the mirror.</p><p>He stepped behind her as she pulled up her corset, fastening it in front. Circling his hands over her head, he settled her gold necklace around her neck, brushing away a few stray wisps of her hair as he fastened the clasp. He kissed her shoulder and gazed at her in the mirror, running his hands over her arms before helping her pull up and button her dress.</p><p>After smoothing down her skirts and pinning up her hair, she examined herself critically in the mirror. Mulder wrapped himself around her and pressed his face into the crook of her neck. </p><p>“You’re beautiful.”</p><p>She grinned and leaned into him, clutching his arms. One last moment alone. </p><p>Pressing a chaste kiss on his cheek, she pulled away, taking his hand and leading him from her room. He shadowed her as they left, his hand warming her the small back as they entered the dining room.</p><p>The large room was empty of patrons, the doors shuttered and curtains closed. Two large tables were pushed together in the center of the room with everyone gathered around it. Everyone who worked here, and someone she did not recognize sitting near Walt. He was an older fellow, graying hair, long and stringy underneath a floppy, wide-brimmed hat, a long moustache and copious lines around his eyes that spoke of too much squinting under a bright sun. </p><p>Monica leaned back in her chair, quietly puffing at her pipe, watching with her piercing, dark gaze. Walt sat on Monica’s left, scowling at Mulder. Next to Walt, his compatriot slumped in his chair, finishing a shot of whiskey and waving for another. Melvin walked from the bar with two bottles, placing them in the middle and gesturing for everyone to help themselves, taking his own seat. Langly slouched forward, regarding her and Mulder with a sullen expression. Near the stairs, John and Nellie stood close together. She held his arm and whispered something into his ear while he blushed. The other girls stood along the balcony, their usual chatter and cheerfulness dimmed in the seriousness of the gathering below them.</p><p>Knowing what was to come, Dana chose a place on the other side of Monica. Mulder sat beside her, one arm framing the back of her chair while his other hand rested on her leg, fidgeting with the lace of her skirts.</p><p>Silence blanketed the room, like the heavy intake of breath before a sigh.</p><p>Walt poured himself a drink, and took a long swallow. He cleared his throat.</p><p>“This here’s Harvey. He’s been helping me keep an eye on things,” Walt started. He studiously avoided looking at Dana, his face reddening. “Ever since we learned of Miss Schaeffer’s problems, we been keepin’ an eye out. I’ll let him finish now.”</p><p>“Saw those men you described, Central City way, at the rail station,” he said. “Didn’ mean ta be there, jus’ had to pick up somethin’ for my brother. He’s got a mean case of gout, and pardon the company of ladies, won’t do a fuckin’ thing ‘bout it…”</p><p>“Harv.” Walt frowned.</p><p>“All right then, I’m gettin’ there.” Harvey took a swig from his glass and wiped his mouth. “Jus’ as you described Walt. Taller fellow with red hair, constipated look on his face. Smaller black haired fellow always lookin’ to the taller, prob’ how to wipe--” </p><p>He paused, looked directly at Dana, and shrugged his shoulders. Bill and Charlie, she thought. The day was here, that her fate would be decided. Strangely, she felt a lightness within her. As if the chains she’d been bound with for nearly a year finally shattered from her wrists. Either way, after today, or a week, however long it took, she would not have to wait any longer to know what her future held. </p><p>Mulder touched her shoulder with the tips of his fingers and whispered into her ear. “Them?”</p><p>She tilted towards him. He was so close his breath tickled her cheek. “Yes.”</p><p>“Another one, too,” Harvey said. </p><p>Dana swiveled her head to look at Harvey. <i>Someone else?</i></p><p>“Curious lookin’ fellow. Funny clothes, laughed like a woman. Could tell he was in charge though. Dangerous type.”</p><p>Dana’s heart sank, and she felt the blood drain from her face. Oh, God. It couldn’t be… </p><p>Everyone turned to look at her.</p><p>“It’s him. My fiance. Former fiance. Mr. Boyle,” she said, forcing herself to say the words.</p><p>“Come to claim his bride hisself, what I heard him claim,” Harvey said. He looked at Mulder, who hovered over Dana, so close that she thought they must seem fixed together. She leaned into him, grasping his hand under the table. His rage radiated off of him in waves as he sat silently beside her. </p><p>Nearly everyone began to speak at once. </p><p>“Why the fuck this guy come all the way here, I mean I know Dana’s fuckin’ pretty, but rich guy like that, couldn’t he have whoever the fuck he wanted?” Melvin pounded back a shot of whiskey then glared at Harvey, as if the bearer of news was at fault.</p><p>“Man gets obsessed with a girl, no distance stops him from having her,” Clementine said, raising her voice from among the other women gathered above.</p><p>“Well I say let him have her, lets be done with this crap,” Langly said. </p><p>Mulder stiffened, but before he could move Dana tightened her grip on his hand, leaning against him. “It’s okay, baby,” she whispered in his ear.</p><p>He turned to look at her, settling back in his seat and giving her hand a squeeze. Nodding, though his mouth was drawn in a line. </p><p>“I know everyone has thought the same thing. And I would leave, if I thought it would help,” Dana said softly. “But I think it is already too late. They will come here, regardless of whether I am here or not. And if I am here I can help, at least.”</p><p>“Maybe if you went to him now, he wouldn’t bother with us,” Langly said, though he did not meet yer eyes.</p><p>Dana bowed her head. <i>Maybe he is right. </i></p><p>“Fuck you, you coward!” Melvin shoved his shoulder and Langly tumbled from his chair. He stood up, red-faced, and stomped towards the kitchen. </p><p>“Things were just fine ‘til she showed up,” he shouted back, the swinging door creaking on it’s hinges as he flew through them, disappearing from their sight.</p><p>“Can I punch him?” Mulder asked, loud enough for everyone to hear. A few laughs settled the nervous air that had formed over the group.</p><p>“Have to fuckin’ wait your turn,” Melvin said, glaring after the other man.</p><p>“Alright fellas, enough fighting,” Walt said. “We’re not giving in to these assholes.”</p><p>“Damn straight,” Mulder said.</p><p>“What we gotta do now is plan.” Walt slammed his glass down on the table. “Central is just over a day’s ride at a regular pace. Harv here saw ‘em yesterday morning, sped back real quick. So we gotta think they’re on their way to the Doc’s, head there right away to intercept. From there, figure out what we’re gonna do to fight ‘em off.”</p><p>“We’re sure it's the Doc that tattled?” Nellie spoke up.</p><p>“Only one that knew, really,” Walt said. </p><p>Dana thought back to yesterday - <i>was it really only yesterday?</i> - when she was so distraught over thinking Mulder was dead, she didn’t pay any heed to the sheriff eyeing her suspiciously. Her brothers arrived before he saw her, though, or at around the same time. Had to be the Doc.</p><p>“Maybe I should go down there and put a bullet in their heads before they even have a chance to find anything out,” Mulder said, his leg bobbing up and down next to hers. </p><p>“Mulder, no,” she said softly, moving her hand to his upper thigh, stilling his movements. </p><p>“Dana--” His eyes pleaded with her. </p><p>“No,” she interrupted, louder and with finality. She squeezed Mulder’s leg, as if her grip could keep him here. </p><p>“She’s right, Mulder, you don’t have much of a chance versus one person who knows how to use a gun, no offense. Nevermind three. Besides she just got you back, wouldn't be fair to do that to her.” John’s subdued voice broke through the arguments and angry whispers.</p><p>Dana looked back at John, who nodded at her. </p><p>Mulder exhaled, his fingers moving restlessly over Dana’s shoulder. “We need to do something.”</p><p>“We are,” Monica stated. She tapped her pipe on the edge of the table, spilling its contents on the floor. Everyone was quiet, looking at her. </p><p>She leaned back in her chair once more, folding her hands on her abdomen in front of her, peering at everyone around the table.</p><p>“I’ve looked into this Boyle character. He’s bad news. Unpredictable. Violent,” she started, then looked at Dana pointedly. “Hates women. Why I’m not surprised he decided to come here, once he found where you were. Certainly won’t listen to reason, especially not from me. If he comes here, we defend my property, simple as that. It’s why we’ve been stocking weapons, ammunition, training the girls. We’ll be ready. Even if he has more than your two brothers. We won’t let him take you, Dana.”</p><p>Everyone settled back in their seats. It was decided, for good or ill. Dana felt sick to her stomach, that everyone should put themselves at risk for her.</p><p>“Langly’s wrong, Ma’am,” Walt said, looking her in the eyes for the first time this meeting. “You’ve been good to this place. Lent it some respectability. The girls are better off and even Monica isn’t so grouchy all the time.”</p><p>A chorus of giggles came from upstairs at his last statement.</p><p>He leaned forward on his elbows, then pointed his chin at Mulder. “And even this lout here has changed his ways. Well, for the most part.”</p><p>Dana felt tears threaten, and turned away to hide them. Mulder pulled her close and pressed a kiss to her temple. “It’s not just me, everyone loves you, sweetheart,” he whispered, his lips lingering against her skin. </p><p>She did not pull away, but wrapped her arm around his waist and laid her head against his chest. She breathed him in. Before Mulder, it would have been so easy to turn herself over, like Langly suggested. To give up. Her life was not worth the efforts of the other people in this room, but it was not just her life anymore. And even if she could run and save everyone, she was tired of hiding, tired of her life being at a standstill. She needed to turn the page of her story, move on with whatever God or fate had planned for her. </p><p>“Mr. Boyle didn’t become successful by being a fool. Do not underestimate him,” Dana said. She traced her hand over Mulder’s knuckles, their hands entwined on his lap under the table.</p><p>Monica nodded. “Man like that, I’m looking forward to showing him what messing with the wrong woman gets him.”</p><p>“I’m gonna wait by the Docs,” Walt said, standing and shrugging on his jacket.</p><p>“Not you,” Mulder said. “If they come here first, if they already know of this place, you need to be here. We’ll need all the firepower we can spare.”</p><p>“Well, who the hell we gonna send? One of the girls? That certainly won’t draw attention…” Walt retorted.</p><p>“I’ll go.”</p><p>All heads swiveled to look at John. </p><p>“It makes the most sense. People are used to seeing me around. I’m useless with a gun, I won’t be missed here.”</p><p>“Just make sure you don’t go near him, John,” Dana said. It was strange for the thin, nervous man to offer his assistance. Nellie, holding onto his arm, seemed to give him more confidence. They both seemed to stand straighter standing next to each other.</p><p>“Oh, don’t worry, Miss--- er, Dana, I’m not brave like yourself,” he said. “I’ll keep an eye, come right back to warn you if I see anything amiss.”</p><p>Monica stood, signalling the end of the meeting. Everyone dispersed, heading to their new duties. John lingered by Nellie, bowing and kissing the back of her hand before leaving out the side door.</p><p>Mulder stayed near Dana, his arm around her shoulder. </p><p>“You okay?”</p><p>She nodded. They sat in silence, their heads bowed close. Words begged to be released, but something stopped her once again. The light around them dimmed as boards were nailed to windows, as barricades were placed in front of the bar and along the balcony. Dana felt small, inadequate. That these people, fighting for her, did not deserve the fate that would surely befall them.</p><p>And Mulder, waiting patiently next to her. He deserved to know her heart. All of it. But if she spoke the words, would that be like admitting it was her last chance to tell him?</p><p>She squeezed his hand, memorizing the touch of his skin against hers. She kept quiet.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0026"><h2>26. Blood and dust and grief</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <b>Content warning/TW: Graphic depictions of violence; abusive/sexist language </b>
</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>All they could do was wait. Dana busied herself helping the girls, making sure their weapons were ready and that they had plenty of barricades to shelter behind. Most were scared; though a few, like Clementine, knew their way around violence. It was expected in their lives despite the recent respite. Dana calmed the rest with her practicality and assurances, though Mulder saw in the slope of her shoulders and tightness of her mouth that she was only just holding things together herself.</p><p>When they had a moment to themselves, in a corner and out of sight, she clung to him. Her eyes were dry but filled with remorse. Used to taking care of herself and solving her own problems, he knew it was difficult for her to accept help, even when insisted. </p><p>Her eyes constantly strayed to the side doors, locked up tight. He knew she wouldn’t flee, because she told him so; nevertheless, he stuck by her side to make sure of it. When he wasn’t holding her, he paced, nearly digging a ditch in the floorboards with his boots.</p><p>As the sun shone overhead, passing high noon, there was still no word from John. Everyone was on edge. Waiting. Melvin stored most of the liquor in the cellar, protecting them from stray bullets, but he brought out an expensive bottle of bourbon to share, giving himself a bit more than two fingers himself to ward off his nerves.</p><p>The girls stayed upstairs. Nellie watched from the balcony windows, peeking out through the curtains with a white-knuckled grip.</p><p>Madam stayed in her office, though she’d set up a chair just outside, behind the piano and a few other blockades that Walt insisted upon. She polished her rifle, stacked boxes of shells closeby, and created a smoky haze as she furiously puffed at her pipe.</p><p>Walt patrolled inside the building, making sure everything was secure, checking twice and three times. Both of his Colt Peacemaker revolvers were secured at his waist, ammunition belts criss-crossing his chest. He’d also placed a double-barreled shotgun near his perch, a stool only a few feet from Madam, and at the base of the stairs, where he could keep an eye on things.</p><p>Once they came, Mulder and Dana would head to her room, then make their way up the back stairs to the balcony if it came to violence. They’d make sure sure the girls were protected and it gave Dana a good vantage to defend against the attackers. Mulder carried another Colt, and had pocketfuls of ammunition in his jacket, though he knew they were mainly for her. He’d beat anyone that came near, but she was the one who would save them.</p><p>A yell from upstairs broke the tense tranquility of mid-afternoon. </p><p>“They’ve got him!” Nellie shouted. Her footsteps thumped along the upstairs balcony, heading towards the stairs. Some of the girls intercepted her, though, and held her back.</p><p>“Let me go!” she cried. “It’s John, he’s with a pack of men.”</p><p>“Sit still you fool girl, you’ll only get in the way,” Clementine admonished, taking her by the arms. “I know you care for him, Nells, but you need to let us do what we can now. Go sit, get control of yourself.”</p><p>Nellie’s protests ceased as everyone took their places, watching the front doors and listening. Whatever the girl had seen hadn’t been good. Her soft whimpers were the only sound that could be heard, apart from the unfaltering tick of the old grandfather clock in the hallway.</p><p>Mulder’s gaze locked with Dana’s. She nodded at him, holding his hand as they headed to her room. It was difficult to stand by, to wait. Mulder wanted to go out there and do something, but he knew if he did, Dana would follow. He rested his hand on her lower back, his thumb dancing restlessly along the silky material of her dress. </p><p>“You okay?” he asked.</p><p>Dana nodded. When she looked up at him, he saw the fearless woman who’d taken care of Nellie’s attacker, so many weeks ago. The woman he pictured in his mind when he thought of her journey here, fending off her attackers. Doing what needed to be done to survive. This time, not just for herself, but for everyone she’d come to see as her family these past months.</p><p>She pulled her gun from her skirts, checked the barrel and held it at her side, a natural extension of her arm if he ever saw one. She stood differently, her shoulders straight and her chin lifted. Gazing outward into the dimly lit dining room, calculating the perfect distance for her shot to ring true. Killing tore through pieces of her soul, but at least this time he would be here for after it was all done. What mattered was making it there.</p><p>He stood behind her, as they peeked out the door, hidden in the shadows of her room.</p><p>Several heavy boots pounded on the front porch. A high twittering laugh and unintelligible conversation from the men outside.</p><p>The golden doors flew open, and several figures shadowed the doorway, their silhouettes braced against the bright sun.</p><p>“Well, well, well...” said the man in the center of the pack. He was wearing a tall hat, and holding another man in front of him, his arm wrapped around his neck. Stepping forward, he was revealed, Mr. Boyle himself, and John in his grasp, a sharp knife held at his neck.</p><p>Curious-looking indeed. </p><p>Boyle wore an ostentatious suit, dark blue with gold thread, bright green scarf around his neck. His fingers were decorated with thick gold and silver rings, gems of all colors adorning them. When he smiled, and he did that often, it seemed, Mulder saw the glint of gold incisors, making him look like some sort of gaudy vampire. His tall hat, too big for his lean frame, and slicked-back brown hair completed his ensemble. A man who wanted to show his wealth, and didn’t much care if he dressed like a child might. The dangerous glint in his dark-brown eyes, nearly pupiless, warned away anyone who would make a joke at his expense.</p><p>Boyle’s twittering child-like laugh echoed in the empty dining room. John trembled, his eyes wild and terrified. The knife pressed into his skin, a trickle of blood trailing down his neck, onto the starched-white collar of his shirt.</p><p>“I never expected Dana to turn up in a place like this!” he thundered, his voice deep, with a thick irish brogue. It was so different from his high-pitched laughter that it was disorienting, like two people existing in the same body. “How the mighty have fallen, huh? Can’t say your brothers found it quite as funny as I did.”</p><p>Two figures stepped into the room beside him, men Mulder knew as Dana’s brothers based on their descriptions. Bill was a tall red-headed fellow with a sour expression. Broad shoulders and dull eyes. He grasped a gun at his belt, watching the room carefully. On the other side, Charlie, smaller and black-haired, nearly tripped as he took his place. His thumb tapped the handle of the pistol at his side, sweat darkening his tan shirt and glistening on his brow.</p><p>Two other men completed the group, both covering their faces with scarves, the brims of their hats pulled low. One of them tossed the remains of a cigarette on the floor, the ashes smouldering on the wood.</p><p>“Perhaps you can help me,” Boyle started. “I’m looking for a small slip of a girl, fair with crimson hair, eyes like blue ice; she might think herself better than most? I’m here to fetch her. She’s mine, you see. What was promised.”</p><p>“You can fuck off,” Walt shouted from behind a pillar, the menacing click of his shotgun being cocked accompanying his voice.</p><p>“Oh, I don’t think I’ll be doing that,” Boyle’s eyes twinkled and he jerked John around, pressing the knife closer. “Unless you’d like to see me do to this cowardly fellow what I did to the Doc this morning. That man is one greedy sonofabitch, too bad he learnt his lesson too late.” </p><p>Dana stiffened, and Mulder wrapped his arm around her waist. He pressed his face to the top of her head, breathing her in and calming his nerves.  </p><p>“Come out, Dana, I don’t mind that you’re a whore. All women are, deep down. Good you finally realized it.” Boyle scanned the room, pointing his free hand at the balcony. “Are you up there? I see some pretty dresses. Come on out now, won’t hurt you too much. I can be nice if you are. Considering what you put me through, a couple bruises isn’t too high of a price. Won’t mark up that pretty face of yours, and I’ll even give up this fine gentleman, though not sure why you’d want him back.”</p><p>Mulder’s hands balled up into fists as he spoke, his anger igniting as Boyle chattered away. His voice, slick and confident, told Mulder he was used to getting his way. How many people, how many women, had he abused for his simple amusement?</p><p>“Go to hell, you cocksucker,” Clementine yelled. </p><p>“Please don’t kill ‘im,” Nellie pleaded.</p><p>“Awww, now. See, Dana? Don’t want to hurt these pretty ladies' feelings, though they’re a bit confused at who’s a cocksucker. Might need to show ‘em the truth of that.” He giggled. “I can wait here all day, making little tiny cuts in this fellow’s soft skin. Quite enjoyable, actually.”</p><p>There was a long pause. The tick of the clock, the shuffling of boots on the floorboards. Rays of sunlight shining from the open doors, reflecting on thousands of motes of dust as they danced in the air.</p><p>“Out back!” John yelled.</p><p>Boyle’s eyes darkened, the menacing cheerfulness replaced by cold fury. He slashed his knife and a spout of bright red blood gushed from John’s neck.</p><p>Mulder’s vision tunnelled, his anger boiling over. His only friend, until Dana, struggled and gasped for breath as his life drained from him. Mulder strained forward, pressing his chest against Dana’s back, like a racing horse held in place behind a starting gate. </p><p>“Aw, now look what he made me do!” Boyle growled. He backed up, holding John in front of him. Blood spurted over his expensive clothes, dripping down onto the floor. The other men kicked over some tables, and drew their guns. </p><p>
  <i>I’m going to fucking kill that motherfucker. Gonna rush out there before they have a chance--</i>
</p><p>“Mulder, look at me,” Dana pleaded. He tore his gaze away from the gory scene, his heart thumping in his chest. Her eyes held him steady. “We need to go out back.”</p><p>What she said made sense. It was rational. Her fists twisted in his shirt, making him listen. But he didn’t want to listen, he didn’t want to stay here, he didn’t want to do the right thing, and he hated her--</p><p>No.</p><p>He squeezed his eyes shut and counted to ten. The sounds around him finally reaching his ears. Nellie sobbing above. Melvin swearing behind the bar. And Boyle’s laughter, ringing out over all the rest.</p><p>Mulder looked at Dana again, feeling ashamed for his ugly thoughts. This was the Dana who got things done, who did what was necessary when things went bad. He knew she hurt, ached, but she had no time for that now. Because of her, things would turn out right, as right as they could turn. They would deal with the rest when it was all done.</p><p>“He’s gone, Mulder,” Dana whispered. “There’s no saving him.”</p><p>He knew. Wound like that. A stone formed in his gut, and he took her hand. “Let’s go.”</p><p>They crouched down, opening the door quietly and sneaking out into the hall. Turning the corner, they slowed to a crawl as they reached the side entrance. It was locked, bolted down, but if they had John, they had his key. </p><p>Stopping at the door, they kneeled across from each other, listening. The scratching of a key, and cursing and whispers from a group of men on the other side.</p><p>Mulder looked at Dana, who nodded. She readied her weapon, cocking it as she backed up around a pillar for cover. Mulder stood, back against the wall next to the door. He stretched strips of cloth around his fists, clenching them together. Dana would get most of them, and he would clean up the rest.</p><p>The door creaked open, the intruders thinking they still had the advantage of surprise on their side. One man passed by Mulder, focused ahead, his eyes still adjusting to the dark, missing the glint of Dana’s revolver as she held it steady. A second came through, and her revolver went off, the loud bang from her shot and the flash from the barrel making him wince and duck. The acrid smell of gunpowder filled his nostrils. </p><p>The first fell, shot through the head. Two more shots into the doorframe, wood splintering near him, and then number two and three fell in quick succession. The head once more, dead before they hit the ground, their blood splattering on his face and on the wall beside him.</p><p>By now, the entire Hall had erupted in yelling and gunfire. The other men entering through the side door now had their wits about them. Mulder crouched down and pounced as the next one neared the threshold, crashing into him and taking the breath out of his lungs, straight into the other. All three of them fell, cursing and rolling in the dust outside. The horses in the stable whinnied at the sudden eruption of chaos around them.</p><p>The man Mulder hit was nearly as tall as he was, but his clothes hung off his scrawny frame, his face covered by a black scarf. His bowler hat flew off as he hit the ground, rolling a few feet away at the feet of one of the horses, who shied and backed away. The other man was grizzled, with a pockmarked face, his wide-brimmed hat pulled down over greying hair. </p><p>Scrawny hit his head on a post as he fell, and was slow to stand, holding his head and groaning. Grizzled recovered much faster, standing up quickly and reaching for his gun. Before he could pull it, Mulder bowled him over, tackling him to the ground. He punched Grizzled in the face, a spray of blood and teeth erupting from his mouth as he struck him twice, then three times, before taking hold of the other man’s weapon. Before he could aim and shoot, however, a loud gunshot sounded behind him. He ducked instinctively. When he turned his head, Dana was standing in the doorway, legs spread in a wide stance and her weapon held out straight in front of her, smoke crawling from the barrels. Scrawny was on the ground, blood oozing from a shot to his chest.</p><p>Mulder nodded at her and turned back to Grizzled, finishing him with a shot between the eyes. </p><p>“Gottem,” he said.</p><p>The corner of Dana’s mouth lifted, though her face was pale and her eyes dark and cheerless. </p><p>He lifted the guns from the men as they ventured back inside, sliding against the wall as they approached the dining room. Just a small peek around the corner, then back up top, like they’d planned. </p><p>Before they got there, a rustling from behind caught Mulder’s attention. He grabbed Dana’s arm from behind.  She turned her head, eyes widening. As she lifted her weapon to shoot, he saw Scrawny crawling from the side door, a thick trail of blood behind him. Raising his weapon, a small pistol that Mulder missed, he shot.</p><p>Blinding pain. He fell.</p><p>Mulder felt Dana’s cool hands on his throat and his face. It fucking hurt. He groaned and slammed his head back against the wall. Maybe if his head hurt his fucking arm or chest or shoulder or whatever-the-FUCK got hit would hurt less.</p><p>“Baby, shh…” Dana whispered. She ripped open his jacket and shirt, and he had a fleeting thought of her performing the same maneuver in a wildly different situation. That he could desire her in this moment must mean he would be okay, right?</p><p>She examined him, touching his shoulder and chest with a gentle care that made him worry again. As she pulled up her dress and ripped at the thick white cloth underneath, he suddenly recalled how he’d ended up on the floor in the first place. Looking back towards the side door, all he could see were four bodies, lying unmoving in growing pools of blood.</p><p>“There’s a… guy.”</p><p>“Gottem.”</p><p>Mulder smiled, then winced as she pressed the torn pieces of her petticoats to his shoulder and wiped the blood from his face with the sleeve of her dress.</p><p>“Oh, baby,” Dana soothed. “You’re going to be okay. Just your shoulder.”</p><p>“It hurts,” he said, pouting. “Fuck!”</p><p>“Hold this,” she said, handing him the makeshift bandages. He took them from her and pressed down on his wound, pain shooting down his arm. </p><p>Dana moved away, peering out into the dining room. Her face fell. Despite taking out half of their group, it seemed as though things weren’t going as well for the rest of them. Five experts with guns was no match for Walt, Monica and a few amateurs. Peeling laughter echoed through the dining room. Groans and sobs underneath.</p><p>She crawled back to him. A bullet whizzed over her head, hitting a picture frame, the glass shattering to the ground and glittering on the floor near them. </p><p>“We got this,” he said, attempting to move from his place on the floor. He stumbled, barely rising an inch, and collapsed back against the wall.</p><p>“You don’t have anything, Mulder.”</p><p>“Don’t even think of going out there without me.”</p><p>Dana kneeled in front of him, placing her hand on his heart and her other on his injured shoulder. Her eyes fought a battle, staying strong and controlled, or breaking down, tears breaking through the cold surface. Maybe it was worse than he thought. His injury, or the situation out front, he wasn’t sure which.</p><p>“Mulder, I need you to promise me something.”</p><p>He stared at her, blinking to keep his eyes from glazing over. It was hard to think when it felt as though a hot poker was twisting into his shoulder. But for her, oh, for her. Her thumb brushed against his skin and he shivered. He reached up with his good arm and touched the sleeve of her dress, grazing the skin of her wrist. The clouds parted, and he looked at her intently.</p><p>“Tell me.”</p><p>“I am going to go out there--” </p><p>“Dana--”</p><p>“Just listen,” she insisted. “You think I am giving up. But I promise you, Mulder, I will come back. But you have to stay here. If you show your face, you will be killed, and then this will all be for naught.”</p><p><i>Oh, God, no, please, no</i>, he thought. </p><p>“Dana, please…” his voice trailed off. </p><p>She reached into the folds of her skirt and produced the scarf he’d tried to give her weeks ago. An attempt at showing her what she meant, of his commitment to her. Back then, she’d thrown it to the ground, insulted by the gesture. But now? She stroked the delicate material as if it was the most precious thing she owned. He was utterly confused.</p><p>“Trust me, Mulder.” She wrapped his hands in the scarf and entwined her hands within his. “I will marry you, if you still wish it. I would not make that promise if I thought this would be the end.”</p><p>She leaned forward and kissed him, though his lips were still under hers. The pain, her declaration, he had trouble discerning which had stunned him more. </p><p>She crouched in front of him, waiting for him to answer.</p><p>“I still wish it,” he said, his voice cracking. “And I do trust you. I promise I won’t interfere.”</p><p>She caressed his cheek and smiled at him, then went to stand up. He grabbed her hand. “If anything unexpected occurs, you shout something. Something I would know.”</p><p>“Andromeda,” she said. </p><p>She squeezed his hand one last time, then slipped her hand from his grasp. Inching towards the edge of the wall, she peered around the corner. She took a deep breath, then called out.</p><p>“Enough! It is me you want.”</p><p>The gunfire stopped almost immediately. A few stray shots pinged past, and then there was silence. Dana stepped forward, her back straight and her head held high. Her dress was torn, her hair was coming undone, and she had blood smudged over her cheek. She was magnificent, and his heart hurt to watch her step away from him.</p><p>Despite his promises, he slowly, and painfully, made his way to the corner so he could watch. Boyle’s eyes remained fixed on Dana as she approached, so he would not be seen. He checked his pistol, and wondered how bad of a shot he would be with his left hand. Probably not much worse than his right. He tightened his grip on it.</p><p>“Dana,” Boyle said. “I must say, working in a whorehouse has done wonders for you.”</p><p>“You want me. You have me. Stop this, right now.”</p><p>“I don’t know, Dana. Seems as though your brother Bill was shot. And what a shame the physician is unavailable. Seems I should get some revenge for that. Or perhaps you’d like to shoot the old man who wounded him yourself?”</p><p>Her gaze shifted to something on Boyle’s left, then looked back at him.</p><p>“No more killing.”</p><p>“You always were soft-hearted about that, despite how chilly you were in every other respect,” Boyle sneered. “Come closer.”</p><p>Dana took two steps forward and stopped. If Mulder didn’t know any better, he would say she seemed timid. Head tilted downwards, hands clasped on her abdomen. Her back was straight, though, and he had no doubt there was fire in her eyes.</p><p>“Closer,” he said. She stepped within reach. “Jesus Christ, and forgive me Lord, but you are beautiful.” </p><p>Boyle reached out and grabbed her arm, pulling her tight against him. Rage and jealousy and hurt blocked out Mulder’s pain. He seethed. His stomach was tied in knots, and he tasted bile in the back of his throat. That this man would touch her.</p><p><i>Trust her, she said</i>. It took every ounce of willpower he possessed to remain where he was.</p><p>“‘To the victor belong the spoils’.” Boyle said. He twittered out a small laugh, holstered his gun with a flourish, and twisted his blood-soaked hand in Dana’s hair, yanking her into him for a hard kiss. Dana seemed to lean into it, snaking her arms from his grasp to her sides. She rustled in her skirts.</p><p>A muffled bang. A spray of cotton and silk and blood. Boyle’s golden smile transformed into the grimace of a painful, inevitable death.</p><p>Dana looked over his shoulder at the remaining men, hiding behind the tables.</p><p>“Better run while you boys still have your lives. Don’t think you’ll be getting your gold,” Dana said, shielding herself with Boyle’s body. Her voice rang clear and loud. Commanding. Speaking the truth. Her skirts ruined and tattered under the force of her revolver, and her other hand on the handle of Boyle’s, taken from his belt.</p><p>The two men left standing looked at each other and fled, quick as Boyle’s blood spilled from his belly. He stumbled back. His eyes wide with shock as he stared at his own blood on his hands, that it should even be possible.</p><p>“You always underestimated me. Us. That we would fight back,” she said. She stepped back and pulled the trigger again, into the centre of his chest. “Learned your lesson too late.” </p><p>He fell.</p><p>Mulder closed his eyes, relief washing over him. He opened them again, and everything was as it was before he’d shut them. Not a dream, wished for in the haze of his pain. Dana stepped over the dying body of her former fiance, kicking away the knife that had fallen from his side. Paid him no more heed. The past, soon to be forgotten.</p><p>Mulder grimaced and stood, clutching his shoulder and gasping with every step, closing the distance between them. Promise kept. He would not stand back any longer.</p><p>She stood near another upturned table that shielded his view. From behind it he heard sobbing. When he stood next to her, he saw her brothers on the floor. Bill lay dead or dying, blood darkening chest and covering the floor beneath him. Charlie hunched over him, his gun abandoned several feet away, weeping as he gripped his brother’s jacket.</p><p>“Please don’t kill me, Dana,” he said, not looking at her. “I didn’t want to do this to ya.”</p><p>She bit her lip, and moved closer to Mulder, letting him lean on her.</p><p>“Fuck you, Charlie,” Mulder said.</p><p>“Who’re you?” He looked up, startled that someone should interrupt him.</p><p>“Your fucking brother-in-law,” he said.</p><p>Charlie stared at Dana, then Mulder. “You married a whore?”</p><p>Mulder tensed, ready to punch the stupid expression off Charlie’s face, then winced and nearly fell. The pain from his shoulder radiated down his arm, making him see stars. He sat heavily in a nearby chair and panted, barely holding the makeshift bandage to his shoulder.</p><p>“Charlie,” Dana sighed. She put the guns away in her skirts and looked at him. Red-faced, tears streaming down his cheeks, knees and hands stained with blood. Pathetic. He almost, almost, felt pity for him.</p><p>“You know Bill, he wouldn’t listen.”</p><p>“You could have done something,” she said. Her voice rose. “You never stood for anything. When I needed you, you abandoned me. Took the easy way out. I had no choice, Charlie, you saw what Boyle was like. You would give your own sister to a man like that.”</p><p>“I didn’t want to,” he repeated, leaning over Bill and weeping over his chest. Great heaving sobs as he cried over the brother he couldn’t fight, he couldn’t go against, even if it meant sacrificing his sister.</p><p>Walt and Monica appeared beside Dana, weapons raised. Nellie rushed over to John’s body and laid atop him, running her hands through his close-cropped hair. Could have been him and Dana, easily enough. He pressed the cloth to his shoulder even tighter, thankful that he could feel pain.</p><p>Dana sighed, biting her lip. Her shoulders slumped. “You can go, Charlie. Just don’t try to find me again.”</p><p>Madam’s jaw clenched as she stared at the remaining brother, then looked at Dana. Her eyes were cold and calculating. </p><p>“Best not to leave loose ends,” Madam said. “Look away, Dana.”</p><p>Dana’s eyebrows creased in confusion.</p><p>Madam raised her rifle and pulled the trigger. The powerful round blasted a hole through Charlie’s head, spraying blood and brains on the floor behind him.</p><p>Dana gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. Her wide eyes sought Mulder out and her face crumpled when he reached for her. She took his hand, pulling it to her chest and hugging it close. It was over. No family left for either of them now.</p><p>He would be hers, then, as she was his.</p><p>He drew her close, until he could wrap his arm around her waist and press his face into her stomach. <i>Useless arm</i>, he thought. He wanted to take her up, carry her away. Hide away with her until the nightmares passed. </p><p>The heavy thud of boots on the porch interrupted their embrace. Mulder held onto her, but turned his head to look.</p><p>Sheriff Doggett approached the open doors of the Hall, looking around the ruined establishment before his eyes settled upon the four dead bodies on the floor. He stepped over Charlie, nearest to the threshold, and nodded at Madam as she stood in the midst of the blood and dust and grief, her face as hard as ever.</p><p>Mulder pressed his face into Dana’s stomach and slumped down in his seat, hoping to remain unseen.</p><p>“Heard there’s been trouble, the violent kind,” Doggett said.</p><p>“No trouble. Perhaps a bit of violence,” said Madam. </p><p>“Seems to be resolved.”</p><p>“Satisfactorily, for the most part.”</p><p>Pulling out a parchment from his jacket pocket, he tossed it towards Dana and himself. It fluttered to the ground, the same notice that he took from the Doc’s place. Her face, unmistakable, right in the center. </p><p>“These scoundrels seemed to be lookin' for you, Miss Schaeffer. Don’t know what side that means you’re on.”</p><p>Doggett ambled through the dining room, assessing the damage. Oil lamps shattered, their contents soaking the floor beneath. Chairs and tables overturned. Melvin glared at the sheriff as he ran his hand along the bar, avoiding splintered wood and poking a few fingers into the bullet holes that decorated its surface.</p><p>“What it means, I think, is trouble,” Doggett said.</p><p>Dana stared at the sheriff, meeting his hard gaze with equal determination.</p><p>“Though you seemed to have saved me the trouble of hanging these men myself. Killed Doc Harbison in a horrific manner, and it seems your own fellow as well.”</p><p>He reached down and took back the paper, examining it closely. “Not my business what they wanted with you, but I don’t want any trouble here. You leave by sundown, we’ll forget about this business.”</p><p>He waved the paper in front of him and rested his hand at his hip. Dana stepped up to the sheriff and held out her hand. After ripping the parchment in half, straight through her portrait, he gave it to her.</p><p>“Sundown won’t work,” she said. </p><p>“Oh?” Doggett frowned.</p><p>“No doctor means someone will need to tend to the wounded here. I’ll leave when that’s settled.” She turned her back to him, ending the conversation.</p><p>Sheriff Doggett smiled faintly, then turned his gaze to the Madam, tipping his hat as he stepped out of the Hall. Mounting his horse, he gestured to the deputies waiting for him, and they rode away into the dust-filled streets.</p><p>Dana approached him again, avoiding his gaze. She busied herself with checking his shoulder, her lower lip trembling as the impact of all that happened today finally sunk in. Though she ministered to his wound, he knew she suffered greater than him. He willed her to look at him. Shining blue eyes met his, worried and grief-stricken.</p><p>“I got you, Dana.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0027"><h2>27. Chapter 27</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <b>TW: blood</b>
</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>After the sheriff left, Dana patched Mulder up quickly, and dragged him to bed with firm orders to remain there. Then she tended to everyone else, scratches and minor cuts and bruises from splintered wood and shattered glass. A few chairs were set up where she used to sit with Mulder, before all of this happened. Before he left on his last search for his sister, before she thought he was dead. Before nine people lost their lives today, most by her own hand.</p><p>Out of the corner of her eye, she saw those who were not injured, or freshly treated, helping to sort through the mess. Cover the bodies. Nellie was still draped over John, her sobs quieting over his silent body. Eventually, Monica pulled her away, embracing her and bringing her into the comforting shadowy haze of her office. </p><p>She said a quick prayer for John and her brothers, who would soon be taken to the graveyard and buried. The others, she did not think about.</p><p>Finally she got to Walt, last in line and grumbling that he’d had worse. He revealed a nasty bullet wound in his leg, and though it wasn’t bleeding profusely, the bullet broke apart when it hit, the pieces scattering inside his flesh. She wasn’t a surgeon, but what choice did he have? It was between letting the wound fester, or use her rudimentary skill and knowledge to do something. </p><p>She had Clementine heat a sharp knife, and get her fresh water, plenty of bandages, and some whiskey. Walt took a big gulp of the liquor, refusing her offer of laudanum, then bit down on a wooden spoon. He gripped the edges of the chair and looked away. After bathing his wound in whiskey and water, she made steady cuts with the knife, letting out a shaky breath whenever she removed a scrap of metal. Sweat beaded on her brow as she worked. Her whole world was Walt’s leg and what she must do to heal him.</p><p>Finally, it was done. Blood covered her hands as she stitched him up and gave the leg a final rinse with the whiskey, earning a groan from Walt, who had silent and frozen the entire time. She could not have asked for a better patient. Wrapping his leg, she had Melvin and Langly help him to a room, and leaned back in her chair. Her head pounded. Her hands shook. She felt like smiling, or laughing, the thrill of her impromptu surgery making her giddy. Then the guilt crept back, that she should feel anything except sadness with all of the carnage surrounding her.</p><p>Monica came out of her office and looked at Dana. Avoiding her gaze, unwilling to speak, she cleaned up her mess, washing her tools and her hands. Wondering if the blood would ever truly come off.</p><p>Trudging back to her room, Dana opened the door quietly. She was hopeful but doubtful that Mulder followed her instructions to remain still. But he was lying down, head turned towards her, eyes wide and concerned.</p><p>“Was gonna come search for ya.”</p><p>“How are you?” she asked. </p><p>“Good. Better that you’re here,” Mulder said. He attempted to get up, but winced and laid back down. </p><p>“Don’t you move,” she scolded.</p><p>His eyes never left her as she pulled off the ruined tatters of her dress. The blood, from Mulder and her victims and her patients, blended together, indistinguishable. Her clothes ripped from her gunshots, from tearing her petticoats to shreds to make Mulder’s bandage. </p><p>
  <i>Did it balance everything out? One good act, or several, against the lives I took?</i>
</p><p>Stripping naked, she scrubbed her skin, examining herself in the mirror for any speck of blood or dirt that might remain. Her red-rimmed eyes ached. It felt as if the very dust that coated every surface out in the dining room had gathered underneath her lids. </p><p>After pulling on her chemise and dressing gown, she poured two glasses of water and made her way to his side of the bed. Sitting them upon the table, she had a flash of a memory. Herself, bedbound in a dark and tenuous emotional state when Mulder was gone, thinking he was dead. Monica bringing her a glass of water and giving her hope. She squeezed her eyes shut, shivering, and opened them. Mulder was here, bandaged and partially naked and giving her a look that reminded her of a starving hound. This was not a dream.</p><p>She carefully helped him to sit up, fluffing the pillows behind him. He grabbed her around the waist with his one good arm and pressed his face into her chest when she leaned over.</p><p>“Hmm, soft,” he said.</p><p>She laughed, and pulled away, taking a chair and sitting it next to the bed.</p><p>Holding a glass to his mouth, she made him drink, ignoring his sad eyes and pout when he patted the mattress next to him but she remained in her chair. She was exhausted, and wanted nothing more than to settle next to him and sleep. But first, she would make sure he was okay.</p><p>She looked into Mulder’s eyes, checked his pulse and made sure he could wiggle his fingers, then unwrapped his bandages to take a look at his wound. Everything seemed fine. Remarkably fine, considering what could have happened. She took the piece of cloth that sat next to the empty glass of water and unwrapped it, showing the flattened four-leaf clover to him.</p><p>“I do not think you need this,” she said, touching the leaves delicately.</p><p>“I’ll take any bit of luck,” he said, taking it from her and shifting on the bed, making him wince and squeeze his eyes shut.</p><p>“How is the pain? Be honest.”</p><p>“Hurts like hell. But I will live.” He watched her intently, placing the folded cloth next to him and reaching out to run a hand over her bare knee. </p><p>“Are you sure you don’t want anything for it?” she asked.</p><p>“No, thank you,” he said, lying his head back on the pillows. “I have seen what that stuff does. I would rather suffer with pain.”</p><p>She nodded, and placed her hand atop his where it rested on her leg.</p><p>“How is everyone else?” he asked.</p><p>“Walt is the only one I am worried about,” she said. “Clem is in charge of his care, and I think he rather enjoys being bossed around by her. She’s to come get me if he shows any signs of worsening, but I think he will be okay. Everyone else just has scratches and bruises, apart from you.”</p><p>“You’re good at this.”</p><p>She smiled. “Even if I wasn’t, there is no other choice.”</p><p>“Is this it, then? We are safe?” Mulder asked.</p><p>She nodded. “Mr. Boyle ruled with fear and violence. I think they are more likely to celebrate his disappearance, than want revenge. They will fight over his ‘business’, and forget about the woman who rejected him, who caused him to run off. If they even knew about me at all.”</p><p>Mulder grinned and she couldn’t help smiling softly back at him, though it did not reach her eyes. <i>The price of this freedom was much too high. John. Nellie. Even my brothers. Why was I spared?</i></p><p>He grasped her hand and squeezed. She sipped at her water, the lukewarm liquid soothing her parched throat.</p><p>“So now we go out west, like we spoke about.”</p><p>She nodded. </p><p>“Would you get something for me, in my chest. It should be on the side, an envelope.”</p><p>She fetched it and handed it to him, sitting back heavily on the chair and wrapping her gown tightly around herself. Removing the paper inside from the envelope, he handed it to her.</p><p>“Read it.” His eyes burned into hers.</p><p>She raised an eyebrow and unfolded it. Neat, scrawling handwriting filled the page.</p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>Mulder!</p>
  <p>It is good to hear from you, my boy. I hope you are doing well. I am glad to hear that I may be seeing you soon. May your fortunes turn in your favor to allow you to venture out here to San Francisco. The city seems larger every day, more and more chasing their fortunes, chasing gold, then settling for something far greater: a civilisation that welcomes all into its bosom.</p>
  <p>I am indeed a board member of the University of California and am great friends with Dr. Roland, who has brought great prestige to this institution. He has been under great pressure from many outside forces, mainly his wife, to whom I am endlessly grateful. Things are moving too quickly for some, but I would see us on the leading edge, rather than destined to be disparaged by those who come after us.</p>
  <p>If there is a talented woman who would seek admissions to the Medical College we would of course be interested. There are several very difficult exams which every prospective student needs to pass, but we will not discriminate based off of her sex. I have been very firm on the matter, and my colleagues have been reluctantly coming around to the idea.</p>
  <p>Please do drop by for a visit. I would like to hear more of your fantastical stories.</p>
  <p>Warm Regards,<br/>
Ben</p>
  <p>Dr. Benjamin Richards<br/>
Regent, University of California<br/>
San Francisco</p>
</blockquote>Warmth rushed into Dana’s cheeks as she read. She traced her fingers over the words. Her heart leapt, then sank once more. <i>Who was I to deserve such a privilege?</i><p>“Mulder…”</p><p>“Ben was an old teacher from Oxford, like a father to me. We’ve kept in touch.”</p><p>“I can’t…”</p><p>He reached for her hand and squeezed it. “You can.”</p><p>“When did you…?”</p><p>“Back when I first gave you those journals, when I saw the look on your face.”</p><p>She looked up at him, incredulous. </p><p>“I see you so clearly, sitting in the auditorium, taking your precise notes, your face so serious as you concentrate. Showing up every other candidate in the room.”</p><p>She laughed at his description, seeing it herself. </p><p>“What will you do?” she asked. Would she be enough for him? Would he be able to move on from his sister, as he wanted?</p><p>“I… I’m not sure. I know I need something. I have thought about writing.”</p><p>“You would be good at that,” she said. Even though she doubted all his incredible tales, she enjoyed listening to him. His amazing memory, pulling out details she knew were not fabricated, even if those he heard it from certainly had wild imaginations. </p><p>Hope bloomed in her chest. That there was even an idea of a future for them. The next page in the story of her life. Like he’d told her what seemed so long ago, that her name was written on every page to come. But instead of two books for their two lives, she saw it now as a singular one. Both of them together, always.                                                                                                                                             </p><p>They sat in silence, words left unsaid hanging in the air. She folded the letter and placed it on the table, atop the things she would share with him, now that they had time. Mulder drew circles on her wrist. She finished her water.</p><p>“Did you mean it, Dana?”</p><p>She looked at him questioningly.</p><p>“If it was only a promise to make me stay hidden, I would understand.” His pulse quickened under her fingers. He looked down. Beside him, tucked under a pillow, sat the scarf she’d given him, when she told him she would marry him in the heat of the gunfight.</p><p>“I meant it,” she said.</p><p>He looked at her again with a wide smile and sparkling eyes and her heart clenched. He needed so little from her to be happy, but she thought anything she might say would never convey enough. Her fears fell away. She was done with hiding.</p><p>“I was interrupted earlier,” she started. “Just this morning, though it seems years ago.”</p><p>She looked away.</p><p>“Mulder, I was wrong,” she said. “Back when I said I would not marry you, when I rejected you so cruelly. I did not know it then, but I have already changed. You have changed me, but for the better.”</p><p>She peeked at him, his eyes dark and intense. His mouth moved but he did not speak.</p><p>“When I thought you were gone, I felt like a widow. We are married in every sense of the word, there would be no difference if we made it official. If we made it the truth in front of God and the magistrates. I hurt when you are gone, I feel alive when we are together.”</p><p>She felt tears behind her eyes, closing her throat, but she pushed through it.</p><p>“I have held back so much. You deserve to know what it is that I see and feel when I look at you. My future. Everything. I am stronger, more passionate, and more human, because of you. But I am still myself, as I always will be,” The tears fell, tracing cool lines on her warm cheeks. “You make me trust myself, again.”</p><p>He cupped her face and she leaned into him, letting her tears wet his hand. Not forcing them away.</p><p>“When I saw what Monica did to… Charlie,” she choked out, closing her eyes to banish the image from her mind. “I saw what I would be without you. She made the right decision, but it was a cruel one. She was cold, unfeeling, like it did not matter. I do not want that for myself.”</p><p>“Oh, Dana,” he said. “You could never be cruel. It is not in your nature.”</p><p>She shrugged, doubtful. “What I did was no different. I took many lives today. And this year. I do not know if anything I do could ever make up for that,” she whispered, wiping her face with the sleeve of her gown.</p><p>“C’mere.” He pulled on her hand.</p><p>She stood and inserted herself in the small space beside him, tucking her head underneath his good shoulder and wrapping her arm around his abdomen. Breathing deeply, his warm skin under her cheek banished the creeping shadows that haunted her mind. His breath puffed against the crown of her head and he drew his hand along her arm.</p><p>“I don't think you did anything wrong, neither does anyone out there. Neither would anyone you told your story to,” he said, soft and earnest. “But I also know very well that no matter what other people think or say, your own thoughts will cling stubbornly. Will not go away. So be a doctor, heal others. Heal yourself. I know you are destined for great things, Dana, and I would be around for all of it.”</p><p>She squeezed her arm around his torso, wanting to believe.</p><p>Bringing his hand to her mouth, she kissed his palm and clutched it against her neck. The past, with its horror and darkness, was something she would always carry with her. He was her present, though. He was real, and so was their love. She held onto it.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Well, this is it. The end that I promised, and actually delivered. It's been one hell of a ride and I am not sure how to feel right now. This experience has been incredible. First, planning it all out, and then actually diving in and committing to it. Then the thrill of writing something I was proud of, the lows when I thought everything was terrible. Looking back, and having recently re-read I am definitely happy with GC, and I hope you were too!</p><p>Thank you to my superhero, @ceruleanmilieu, for tirelessly betaing so thoroughly every week (twice a week!!) since I started in October. I promise to wait a little while before enlisting your help on my next project.</p><p>Thank you to my loyal readers who went through this journey with me, your kind comments and support made this fic possible! Thank you to the readers who read all at once, I appreciate each and every one of you!</p><p>I do have ideas for an epilogue, though I am not going to make any promises for when that will come out. But there will be an update at some point on how Mulder and Dana fare after they leave the Gilded Hall. </p><p>Love you! ❤️</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>My research on this time period has not been incredibly intensive. If I did as much research as I could have, it would never get written. THUS! There may be errors about small details. This story is meant to be entertaining and not educational, but I apologize for any big mistakes!</p><p>Comments are life, and keep me going. Keep 'em coming!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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